
Class Mi!! 
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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 



MOODY'S 

—CHILD STORIES—- 

AS RELATED BY / 

DWlGHT LYMAN MOODY 

. IN HIS 

REVIVAL WORK IN EUROPE AND AMERICA. 



COP 10 USL Y ILL US TRA TFD FR OM 

GUSTAVE DORE 



AND- BY. 



J. Stuart Littlejohn. 



IT ALSO CONTAINS 



STORY OF MOODY,S LIFE. 



-COO- 



CHICAGO: 

Rhodes & McClure Publishing Company. 

1900. 



M 



888:18 

lOtarwy o* Congreae 

Two Copies Received 
DEC 15 1900 

~ Copynght entry 
SECOND COPY 

Oetfwred to 

ORDER OWISION 
IftN 10 1901 



No 






Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1900 by the 

Rhodes & McClure Publishing Company, 
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. 

All Rights Reserved. 




In his impressive services, Mr. Moody abounds in 
illustrations drawn from home life. With him, as with 
the Master, the little child is the type of the kingdoms 
Hence, his numerous touching stories about children. 
In this volume the aim of the compiler has been to pre- 
sent these remarkable incidents connected with child 
life. In every instance the child is in the foreground of 
the picture, and the great evangelist in his own language, 
tells the story. Carefully selected fron Mr. Moody's 
work at home and abroad, and handsomely embellished, 
it is hoped that these true and wonderful stories, while 
uttered first in the presence of the great congregations, 
and therefore adapted to all, may prove of special and 
personal interest to the child reader. It contains also 
an interesting Story of Moody's Life. In this form, and 
in the interest of the Savior's cause, the volume is dedi- 
cated to the children of America. 

J. B. McClure. 

Caicago, III. 




PAGE. 

A Bad Boy - 157 

A Boy's Story - - 174 

A Boy's Victory - ~ • 73 

A Child Legend - - 124 

A Child's Request for Prayer - 219 
A Good Mother 53 

A Little Boy Converts his 

Mother - - - 168 

A Little Child shall lead them 93 
A Mother Dies that her Boy 

may Live - - 94 

A Sad Story - - 104 

A Singular Story - - 128 

A Voice from the Tomb - 22 

Believe - - - 41 

Blind Bartimeus - 31 

Breaking the Tumblers - - 190 

Cherries - 236 

Child Friendship, how Durable 164 
Dinna ye Hear Them Comin'? - 224 
Dr. Booth's Story - - 102 

Dr. Chalmers' Story - - 195 

Emma's Kiss - - 233 

Emma's New Muff - - 220 

Faith - - - - 67 

Finding Your Picture - 155 

For Charley's Sake - - 150 

Found in the Sand - - 28 

Higher and Higher - "35 

"Hold the Fort for I am 

Coming" 86 

Hold Up Your Light - -36 

How Little Moody took the 

Whippings - 192 

Humility - 132 

In Jail - - - 54 

Johnny, Cling Close to the Rock 138 
Jumping into Father's Arms - 122 
"Let the Lower Lights be 

Burning" - 228 



PAGE. 

Little Great Men - - 48 
Little Jimmy - 186 
Looking down from Heaven - 80 
Lost in the Deep - 79 
Love - - 84 
Love in the Sunday-School - 143 
Moody and the Children - - 204 
Moody Chasing his Shadow - 103 
Moody in the Far West - - 117 
Moody's Mother and her Prod- 
igal Son - 120 
Mrs. Moody Teaching her 

Child - - - 100 
Obedience Explained - - 212 
Off for America - - 200 
Open the Door - - - 211 
Over the Mountains - 196 
Over the River - - - 215 
Parting Words - - - 202 
Peace - - 95 
Picking up the Bible - - 136 
Prayer Answered - - 181 
"Pull for the Shore, Sailor," 221 
Reaping the Whirlwind - 70 
Rover - - - - 64 
Sammy and his Mother - 125 
Saved in Weakness - - 159 
Son, Remember 69 
Sympathy - 171 
The Bible - - -42 
The Blind Child - - 167 
The Boy that Went West - 23 
The Child and President Lin- 
coln - - - - 115 
The Child and the Book - 189 
The Child and the Infidel - 134 
The Child Angel - - 62 
The Collier and his Children 88 
The Cross - •- - 149 
The Demoniac - - 51 



PAGE. 



The Dog Fighter 


107 


The Drunken Boy Reclaimed 


206 


The Dying Sunday-School 




Teacher - 


179 


The Fatal Slumber - 


207 


The Hand on Moody's Head - 


38 


The Happy H^me 


19 


The Horse that was "Estab- 




lished" 


37 


The Idiot Boy 


40 


The Imp isoned Children 


27 


The Little Bell Boy 


231 


The Little Bird's Freedom - 


213 


The Little Greyhound in the 




Lions' Cage 


20 


The Little Norwegian 


85 


The Little Orphan 


119 


The Little Orphan's Prayer 


61 


The Little Winner 


234 


The Lost Kiss 


17 


The Loved One and the Lover 


148 


The Mistake that was Cor- 




rected - 


227 


The Orange Boy - 


152 



PAGE. 

The Praying Little Cripple - 72 
The Prisoner Weeping for his 

Children - - 109 

The Prodigal's Return - 57 

The Recitation - - 191 

The Repentant Son - 55 
The Saloon-keeper and his 

Children - 139 

The Smiling Child - - 183 
The S ruling Mother's Sad 

Farewell - 198 

The Speaking Card - 26 

The Stolen Boy - - 184 

The Young Converts - 76 

Two Boys and Two Fathers - 46 
Very Sad News - - - 59 

Waiting Lr Jesus - 217 

Willie . - - - 187 

Willie and the Bears - 44 

Willie Asks Pardon and Prays 216 

Work Among Street Arabs - 99 

Young Moody in Boston - 223 

Young Moody's Conversion - 90 

Young Moody at School - 160 



Story of Moody's Life pages 238 to 293. 




PAGE. 



D. L. Moody 



From Gustave Dore. 
Daniel in the Lions' Den - 145 
Hagar in the Wilderness - - 209 
Jesus Ble sing Children - 129 

Jesus Questioning the Doctors 113 
Joseph Interpreting Pharaoh's 

Dream - - "33 

Joseph Making Himself Known 

to His Brethren - 49 

Joseph Sold Into Egypt - 16 

Lazarus ?nd the Rich Man - 225 
Moses in the Bulrushes - 193 

The Flight Into Egypt - 97 

The Judgment of Solomon - 177 
The Nativity - - -65 

The Prodigal Son - - 161 

The Star in the East - - 81 



By J. Stuart Littlejohn. 
A Mother Dies That Her Boy 

May Live 94 

And the Child Just Picked It 

Up - - - - 137 

"And Will I Be With Jesus 

To-night, Faiher?" - 203 
"Are Any of Saul's House 

Alive?" - 164 

At Last I Got a Letter - 223 

A Voice from the Tomb - 22 

But the Dog Ran Right Up to 

the Lion - - 21 

"But You Are Not Afraid to 

Die." - - - 180 

" 'Cause That's Me." - 119 

"Didn't I Tell You Never to 

Pray Again?" - 74 



PAGE. 

Dinna Ye Hear Them Comin'? 224 

"Don't Cry, Mother, I'll Soon 

Be in America, and I'll 

Save Money and Send for 

You.'' - 201 

"Don't Tell Mother Where I 

Am." - - - 55 

Don't You Hear the Angels? 197 
Drowned in Lake Michigan - 30 
Emma's New Muff - - 220 

For Hcurs They Tried to 

Reach That Vessel - 221 

"Go, Kill the Fatted Calf." - 57 
He Advised Her to Write the 
Names Down, and Then 
Pray Earnestly - "73 

He Asked His Mother to For- 
give Him - - 216 
He Put His Hand on My 

Shoulder - - 91 

He Saw the Mangled Form of 

His Loved Child - 208 

He Sprang Into His Father's 

Arms - 123 

He Stood There Covered with 

Rags and Soot - - 185 

He Talked to Her Alone - 196 

He Threw the Dog in the River 108 
He Told Me a Story That 

Thrilled My Heart - 188 

He Took Up Two Little Lambs 102 
He Wouldn't Touch the Roast 

Beef - - - 67 

" Higher, Father. Higher" 35 

His Father Let the Light Go 

Out 80 

His Father Remembered Him 56 
Hold the Fort, for I am Com- 



mg 



86 



PAGE. 

How Much She Loved Jesus 93 

" I Am That Brother" - - 182 

"I Am Waiting for Jesus" - 218 

"If I Tell the World of Jesus" 85 
I Found That I Had Something 

to Do - 205 
"If You Go Out You Must Go 

Over This Body" - 158 
I Have Stopped Swearing, and 
Want You to Be a Chris- 
tian Mother - - 169 
"I May Never See Him 

Again" - 199 

In Jail - - - 54 

I Promised That I Would - 231 

" I Said My Prayers" - 96 
I Took Her Up and Kissed 

Her - - - 18 
It Was the Bagpipes of Scot- 
land She Heard - 224 
* ' I Used to Stand off from 

the Rod" - 192 
I've Been the Means of Lead- 
ing You Astray, and I 

Want Your Friendship 206 

"I've Said It, I've Said It" - 126 

I Was Born Blind - 32 
I Would Have Given the 

World - - - 176 

Let Me Have the Boy - - 144 

Love Better than the Rattan 163 

Love for Her Child - - 148 

Looking Over the River - 215 

Moody Chasing His Shadow 103 
"Mother, I Have Been Con- 
verted" - - "53 
"Mother, Mother, don't You 

Know Me?" - 71 
"Mr. Moody, My Wife Has 

Got Converted." - - 227 
"Mr. Moody, You Can Have 

My Children - - 140 
Mrs. Moody Teaching 101 
No Blood on the Door-post 124 
Now, My Son, Just Speak 105 
"Of Course He Will" - - 61 
Willie and the Bears - 44 
"Woe Is Me, - 133 
Won by a Smile - - 184 
"Won't the Grapes Be Accept- 
able, Papa?" - - 212 



PAGE. 

O, How Sad; How Bitter Sin Is no 
" O, It Is My Lost Son" - 121 
' ' Papa, You Have Been Drink- 
ing Again" - - - 19 
"Please, Sir, Tell Me Why 135 
Pray That My Mother May Be 

Converted - - 219 
' ' Seek First the Kingdom of 

God" - - - 128 

She Broke All the Tumblers 190 

She Had Reached Out for It 172 

" She's In Heaven" - - 63 

She Knocked and Knocked 211 

Speaking About Heaven - 83 

Suffer Little Children - - 191 

"Surely That Man Is Blind" 36 

The Blind Child - 167 

The Book Was too Big - i8g 

The Boy That Went West 23 

The Cross - -r^g 

The Demoniac - - 51 

The Dog Fighter - - 107 
The Father Saw It Was His 

Own Son's Writing - 150 
The Flames Had Now Reached 

Him - - 27 
The Highland Sheep - 159 
The Horse That Was Estab- 
lished 37 
The Idiot Boy - 40 
The Last Was Thrown At Him 153 
The Only Boy in the Class - 48 
The Poor Little Bird Was 

Trembling in His Hand 214 
The President's Heart Was 

Touched - - 116 
The Whole Train Passed Over 

Him - - - 186 
They Went Crash Against the 

Rocks - - - 229 

"Thy Sins Are Forgiven Thee" 77 
"Well, Our Son Has Been 

Seen" - - 60 

"What Makes You Cry, 68 

"Why, I's Clean, Papa" - 45 

Won't You Please Pray That 234 

Work Among the Street Arabs 99 

"Ye Are My Witnesses" - 26 
"You Have A Father in 

Heaven" - - ,\g 




Joseph Sold Into Egypt. Genesis, xxxvii. 




I remember, a few 
years ago, that my 
little girl used to be in 
the habit of getting up 
cross some mornings. You know how it is; 
when any member of the family does not get 
S^> up in a sweet temper, it disturbs all the rest 
of the family. Well, one morning she got 
up cross, and spoke in a cross way, and 
finally I said to her, "Emma, if you speak 
in that way again, I shall have to punish 
you." Now, it was not because I didn't 
love her; it was because I did love her, and if I had to 
correct her it was for the good of the little child. Well, 
that went off all right. One morning she got up cross 
again. I said nothing, but when she was getting ready 

to go to school, she came up to me and said, " Papa, 
kiss me." I said, " Emma, I cannot kiss you this morn- 
ing." She said, "Why, father?" "Because you have 
been cross again this morning. I cannot kiss you." She 
said, "Why, papa, you never refused to kiss me be- 
fore." "Well, you have been naughty this morning." 



17 



1 8 Moody's child stories. 

" Why don't you kiss me?" she said again. " Because 
you have been naughty. You will have to go to school 
without your kiss." 

She went into the other room where her mother was 
and said, " Mamma, papa don't love me. He won't kiss 
me. I wish you would go and get him to kiss me." But 
her mother said, "You know, Emma, that your father 
loves you, but you have been naughty." So she couldn't 
be kissed, and she went down stairs crying as if her heart 
would break, and I 
loved her so well that 
the tears came into my 
eyes. I could not help 
crying, and when I 
heard her going down 
stairs I could not keep 
down my tears. I think 
I loved her then better 
than I ever did, and 
when 1 heard the door i took her up and kissed her. 

close I went to the window and saw her going down the 
street weeping. I didn't feel good all that day. I believe 
I felt a good deal worse than the child did, and I was 
anxious for her to come home. How long that day seemed 
to me! And when she came home at night and came to 
me and asked me to forgive her, and told me how sorry 
she felt, how gladly I took her up and kissed her, and how 
happy she went upstairs to her bed! It is just so with 




MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



19 



(rod. He loves you, and when He chastises you, it is for 
your own good. If you will only come to Him and tell 
Him how sorry you are, how gladly He will receive you 
and how happy you will make Him, and, Oh, how happy 
you will be yourself. 



-o- 




A little girl who had 
attended one of our 
meetings went home 
and climbed upon her 
father's knees and said, 

" Papa, you have been drinking again." It troubled him. 

If his wife had spoken to him, 

he might have got mad and 

gone out into some shop or 

saloon and got more liquor, but 

that little child acted like an 

angel. He came down here 

with her and he found out how 

he might be saved, and now 

that home is a little heaven. 

There is many a home that can 

be made happy. "papa, you have been drinking 

AGAIN." 





THE LIONS CAGE. 



A man over in Man- 
chester had a little grey- 
hound that he was training 
for a race, and he had a 
great bet on him for a poor 
man, and he was anxious 
his dog should succeed. The day came, and the dog 
didn't run at all. He was so mad that he took and beat 
the little greyhound, and then he pushed it through a cage 
in which there was a lion, and expected to see it eaten, 
but the little dog ran right up to the lion as though it 
wanted mercy, and instead of the lion eating it, began 
to lap it, and by-and-bv the man called to the dog to 
come out, but he would not come. Then he put his 
hand in, and the lion began to growl, and he took it out 
again. And some people went and told the keeper what 
the man had done and how he had ill-used the little grey- 
hound. When the keeper came around, the man wanted 
him to get his dog out for him; and the keeper asked 
him how he got in there, and the man was ashamed to 
tell. At last the keeper said, " You put him in; youd' 



20 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



21 



better go and get him out; I won't get him out for you." 
And so the dog has remained there ever since. Now, 
that may be a homely illustration, but I hope it will 
fasten on our minds the idea that we are no match for 
Satan. He has had six thousand years' experience. I 




BUT THE DOG RAN RIGHT UP TO THE LION. 

always tremble when I hear a man talk about defying 
Satan, and I want to add "by the grace of God," for 
that is the only way. The lion of the tribe of Judah 
will take care of us if we will come to Him. 

o 




The other day 
I read of a mother 
who died, leaving 
her child alone 
and very poor. 
She used to pray 
earnestly for her 
boy, and left an 
impression upon 
his mind that she 
cared more for 
his soul than she 
cared for any- 
thing else in the 
world. He grew 
up to be a suc- 
cessful man in business, and became very well off. One 
day, not long ago, after his mother had been dead for 
twenty years, he thought he would remove her remains, 
and put her into his own lot in the cemetery, and put up 
a little monument to her memory. As he came to re- 
move them and to lay them away the thought came to 



22 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



23 



him, that while his mother was alive she had prayed for 
him, and he wondered why her prayers were not an- 
swered. That very night that man was saved. After his 
mother had been buried so long a time, the act of re- 
moving her body to another resting-place brought up all 
recollections of his childhood, and he became a Chris- 
tian. O you mothers! 



-0- 




A number of years ago, before any railway came into 
Chicago, they used to bring in the grain from the west- 
ern prairies in wagons for hundreds of miles, so as to have 
it shipped off by the lakes. There was a father who had 
a large farm out there, and who used to preach the gospel 
as well as to attend to his farm. One day, when church 
business engaged him, he sent his son to Chicago with 
grain. He waited and waited for his boy to return, but 
he did not come home. At last he could wait no longer, 
so he saddled his horse and rode to the place where his 



24 Moody's child stories. 

son had sold the grain. He found that he had been 
there and got the money for his grain; then he began to 
fear that his boy had been murdered and robbed. At 
last, with the aid of a detective, they tracked him to a 
gambling den, where they found that he had gambled 
away the whole of his money. In hopes of winning it 
back again, he then sold his team, and lost that 
money too. He had fallen among thieves, and, like the 
man who was going to Jericho, they stripped him, and 
then they cared no more about him. What could he do? 
He was ashamed to go home to meet his father, and he 
fled. The father knew what it all meant. He knew the 
boy thought he would be very angry with him. He was 
grieved to think that his boy should have such feelings 
toward him. That is just exactly like the sinner. He 
thinks because he has sinned, God will have nothing to 
do with him. But what did that father do? Did he say, 
" Let the boy go?" No; he went after him. He arranged 
his business, and started after the boy. That man went 
from town to town, city to city. He would get the min- 
isters to let him preach, and at the close he would tell 
his story. " I have got a boy who is a wanderer on the 
face of the earth somewhere. " He would describe his 
boy, and say, " If you ever hear of him or see him, will 
you not write to me?" At last he found that he had gone 
to California, thousands of miles away. Did that father 
say, " Let him go?" No; off he went to the Pacific coast, 
seeking the boy. He went to San Francisco, and adver- 



Moody's child stories. 25 

tised in the newspapers that he would preach at such a 
church on such a day. When he had preached, he told 
his story, in hopes that the boy might have seen the ad- 
vertisement and come to the church. When he had done, 
away under the gallery, there was a young man who 
waited until the audience had gone out; then he came to- 
ward the pulpit. The father looked and saw it was that 
boy, and he ran to him, and pressed him to his bosom. 
The boy wanted to confess what he had done, but not a 
word would the father hear. He forgave him freely, and 
took him to his home once more. 

I tell you christ will welcome you this minute if you 
will come. Say, "I will arise and go to my Father." 
May God incline you to take this step. There is not one 
whom Jesus has not sought far longer than that father. 
There has not been a day since you left Him but He has 
followed you. 



-o- 




There was a friend of 
mine in Philadelphia go- 
ing by a drinking saloon 
one night, and he saw in 
that saloon a professed 
Christian playing cards. He just took a pencil, wrote 
on a card, and saw a little boy and said, "My boy, here 
is some money. I want you to do an errand for me. 
You see that man on the side of the table where those 
three are playing cards with them?" Says he, "Yes I 
do." "Well," says my friend, "just take that card to 
him. " The boy started, 



and my friend watched 

him when he handed 

this card to him. What 

was written on the 

card was, " Ye are my 

witnesses." The man 'jjj 

took the card, looked 

at it, sprang to his feet, 

and rushing out into " ye are my witnesses." 

the street asked the boy where the card came from. The 

boy said, "A man over there gave it to me." But the 

man had slipped away, and the poor man died a few 




26 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



27 




months afterwards. "Ye are my witnesses." Where- 
ever you find a professed Christian going in bad company, 
you may look for something worse. 

o 



When the Lawrence 
mills were on fire a 
number of years ago — I 
re, but when the mill fell 
11 fell in, and after it had 
fallen in, the ruins caught fire. There was only one 
room left entire, and in it were three mission Sunday- 
school children imprisoned. The neighbors and all hands 
got their shovels and picks and crowbars, and were work- 
ing to set the children 
free. It came on night \v (( 
and they had not yet 
reached the children. 
When they were near 
them, by some mis- 
chance a lantern 
broke, and the ruins 
caught fire. They 
tried to put it out, but 
could not succeed. 
They could talk with 
the children, and 
even pass to them the flames had now reached them, 




28 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



some coffee and refreshments, and encourage them to 
keep up. But, alas, the flames drew nearer and nearer 
to this prison. Superhuman were the efforts made to 
rescue the children; the men bravely fought back the 
flames; but the fire gained fresh strength and returned to 
claim its victims. Then piercing shrieks arose when the 
spectators saw that the efforts of the firemen were hope- 
less. The children saw their fate. They then knelt 
down and commenced to sing the little hymn we have 
all been taught in our Sunday-school days, oh, how sweet, 
"Let others seek a home below which flames devour and 
waves overflow." The flames had now reached them; 
the stifling smoke began to pour into their little room, 
and they began to sink, one by one, upon the floor. A 
few moments more and the fire circled around them and 
their souls were taken into the bosom of Christ. Yes, 
let others seek a home below if they will, but seek ye 
the kingdom of God with all your hearts. 

o 




While I was attending 
a meeting in a certain 
city some time ago, a lady 
came to me and said, ' ' I 
want you to go home 
with me; I have some- 
i thing to say to you." 
When we reached her 



Moody's child stories. 29 

home, there were some friends there. After they had 
retired, she put her arms on the table, and tears began 
to come into her eyes, but with an effort she repressed 
her emotion. After a struggle she went on to say that 
she was going to tell me something that she had never 
told any other living person. I should not tell it now, 
but she has gone to another world. She said she had a 
son in Chicago, and she was 1 very anxious about him. 
When he was young he got interested in religion at the 
rooms of the Young Men's Christian association. He 
used to go out in the street and circulate tracts. He was 
her only son, and she was very ambitious that he should 
make a name in the world, and wanted him to get into 
the very highest circles. O, what a mistake people make 
about these highest circles. Society is false; it is a 
sham. She was deceived like a good many more votaries 
of fashion and hunters after wealth at the present time. 
She thought it was beneath her son to go down and asso- 
ciate with those young men who hadn't much money. 
She tried to get him away from them, but they had more 
influence than she had; and, finally, to break his whole 
association, she packed him off to a boarding-school. 
He went soon to Yale College, and she supposed he got 
into one of those miserable secret societies there that 
have ruined so many young men, and the next thing she 
heard was that the boy had gone astray. 

She began to write letters urging him to come into the 
kingdom of God; but she heard that he tore the letters 



30 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



up without reading them. She went to him to try and 
regain whatever influence she possessed over him, but 
her efforts were useless, and she came home with a 
broken heart. He left. New Haven, and for two years 
they heard nothing of him. At last they heard he was 
in Chicago, and his father found him and gave him $30,- 
000 to start in business. They thought it would change 
him, but it didn't. They asked me, when I went back 




DROWNED IN LAKE MICHIGAN. 



to Chicago, to try and use my influence with him. 1 got 
a friend to invite him to his house one night, where I 
intended to meet him, but he heard I was to be there, 
and did not come near, like a good many other young 
men who seem to be afraid of me. I tried many times 
to reach him, but could not. While I was traveling one 
day on the New Haven railroad, I bought a New York 
paper, and in it I saw a dispatch saying he had been 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



31 



drowned in Lake Michigan. His father came on to find 
his body / and after considerable searching, they dis- 
covered it. All his clothes and his body were covered 
with sand. The body was taken home to that broken- 
hearted mother. She said, "If I thought he was in 
heaven I would have peace." Her disobedience of God's 
law came back upon her. So, my friends, if you have 
a boy impressed with the gospel, help him to come to 
Christ. Bring him in the arms of your faith, and He 
will unite you closer to Him. 



•o- 




The apostle 
was going into 
Jericho for the 
last time. By 
the wayside he 
finds a poor, 
blind beggar 

who asks for a farthing, and he says, " Silver and gold 
have I none, but I can tell you of a great physician in 
Israel who can cure you." " Can cure me?" he says. " I 
was born blind." " Yes, but I have talked to a man in 
Jerusalem who says he was born blind, but now he sees." 
"Why," says Bartimeus, "how is that?" "Well, sir, 
Jesus of Nazareth was in Jerusalem, and a boy, he said, 
led him up to Him, and He just made clay with spittle 



32 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



and anointed his eyes, and sent him to wash in the pool 
of Siloam. If you could only go up to Jerusalem, all you 
would have do would be to tell Him. He don't charge 
anything." "He don't charge anything?" "No; He 
treats princes, potentates, and penniless all alike, • for 
nothing; you have only to come before Him, and ask 
Him." I can see Bartimeus' eyes light up as he cries out, 
"HI can get my eyes by asking, I will get them." He 
takes his place by the wayside in expectancy. All at once 
he hears some one 



coming, and he cries 
out, " Who is com- 
ing? What does it 
mean?" At this no 
one answers him, 
but he begins to 
mistrust that it is 
Jesus of Nazareth. 
He has been told 
how great crowds 
flock about Him. 
And he cried out 
again in a louder 
voice, and they told 
him Jesus of Naza- 
reth was passing by. 
And he cried again, 




I WAS BORN BLIND. 

then, with all his might, "Thou son of David, have 
mercy upon me 



Some in the crowd thought Christ was 






■■mW iiiiii 1 11 1 

iSR^'' ' : ', ■' ■ ■■■'■■■ i ;,."- 'ilillli 

llifflll ' i ' ' ! ' ■' ' ' ■ : WBbh 

SB :! I \v v ; 




I ssskls^i**' 



. '•■'.;: 




Joseph Interpreting Pharoah's Dream. Genesis, xli. 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



35 



going up to Jerusalem to be crowned king, and did not 
want Him to be disturbed by the blind beggar; they cried 
out not to disturb the Master, but the beggar would not 
cease, but cried all the louder, "Thou son of David, 
have mercy upon me." And the prayer reached the ear 
of the Son of God, and he hushed all the voices about 
Him while He heard the earnest suitor. There was no 
mistake. 



-o- 




I remember 
a few years 
ago, a little 
child died, and 
just before his 
soul went home 
he asked his 
father to lift 
him up, and 
the father put 
his hand under 
the head of the 
child andraised 
it up. But the 
child only said, 

"HIGHER, FATHER, HIGHER." "That is not 

enough; that is not what I want; lift me right up." The 



36 Moody's child stories. 

child was wasted all to skin and bones, but still his 
father complied, and lifted the dying child out of his bed. 
But the little fellow kept whispering, fainter and fainter, 
" Lift me higher, higher, higher!" And the father lifted 
higher and higher, till he lifted him as far as he could 
reach. Yet, still the barely audible whisper came, 
"Higher, father, higher," till at last, his head fell back, 
and his spirit passed up to the eternal King — high at 
last. So, my dear friends, let your constant cry be 
higher, higher, more near the cross of the Son of God. 



•o- 




" SURELY THAT MAN IS BLIND." 



Out west, a 
friend of mine was 
walking along one 
of the streets one 
; dark night, and 
saw approaching 
him a man with a 
lantern. As he 
came up close to 
him he noticed by 
the bright light 
that the man seem- 
ed as if he had no 
eyes. He went 
past; but the 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



37 



thought struck him, "Surely that man is blind." He 
turned around and said, ''My friend, are you not blind?" 
"Yes." " Then what have you got the lantern for?" " I 
carry the lantern that people may not stumble over me, 
of course," said the man. Let us take a lesson from that 
blind man, and hold up our light, burning with the clear 
radiance of heaven, that men may not stumble over us. 



■o- 




There was a 
little boy con- 
verted and he was 
vjpy^ full of praise. 
When God con- 
verts boy or man 
his heart is full of 
joy, can't help 
praising. His 
father was a pro- 
fessed Christian. 
The boy wondered 
why he didn't 
talk about Christ, 
and didn't go 
down to the spe- 
cial meetings. 
One day, as the father was reading the papers, the boy 



38 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



came to him and put his hand on his shoulder, and said, 
" Why don't you praise God? Why don't you sing about 
Christ? Why don't you go down to these meetings that 
are being held?" The father opened his eyes, and looked 
at him and said, gruffly, "I am not carried away with 
any of these doctrines. I am established." A few days 
after they were getting out a load of wood. They put 
it on the cart. The father and the boy got on top of the 
load, and tried to get the horse to go. They used the 
whip, but the horse wouldn't move. They got off and 
tried to roll the wagon along, but they could move 
neither the wagon nor the horse. u I wonder what's the 
matter?" said the father. " He's established," replied 
the boy. You may laugh at that, but this is the way 
with a good many Christians. 



-o- 




I remember when I was 
a boy I went several miles 
from home with an older 
brother. That seemed to 
me the longest visit of my 
life. It seemed that I was 
, then farther away from 
home than I had ever been 
before, or have ever been 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 39 

since. While we were walking down the street we saw 

an old man coming toward us, and my brother said, 

" There is a man that will give you a cent. He gives 

every new boy that comes into this town a cent." That 

was my first visit to the town, and when the old man got 

opposite to us he looked 

around, and my brother, 

not wishing me to lose 

the cent, and to remind 

the old man that I had 

not received it, told him 

that I was a new boy in 

the town. The old man, 

taking off my hat, placed 

his trembling hand on 

my head, and told me I 

had a Father in heaven. 

It was a kind, simple "you have a father in heaven." 

act, but I feel the pressure of the old man's hand upon 

my head to-day. You don't know how much you may 

do by just speaking kindly. 





^SiJi^ It is not long ago, it just 
seems the other day, when 
my dear friend Dr. Mathie- 
WW son, now in heaven, told 
| me he was preaching the 
3gi|? gospel in Scotland, and a 
minister told him he had 
in his congregation a little 
idiot boy. He did not 
know what to do with him; 
he had spoken to him 
many times, but the boy 
always said, ' ' Ye maun 
wait till a' come to ye, and 
when a' come I'll sing ye a sang an' tell ye a story; but 
ye maun wait till a' come to ye." The minister heard 
that the boy was dying, and he went to him and said, 
" Sandy, you promised me that you would sing me a song 
and tell me a story before you died; will you tell it now? 1 ' 
" Yes, minister," replied the boy, " Three in ane an' ane 
in three, an' Jesus Christ He died for me; tha's a'." 
' ' Three in one and one in three, and Jesus Christ He died 
for me." I tell you I would rather be a poor idiot, and 
know that, than be one of the mightiest and so-called 
wisest men in the city of Chicago, and not believe that 
Jesus took my place and died for me on Calvary's cross. 
The gospel is very simple; it is very easy to understand. 

4 o 




Have faith in God! 
Take Him at His word! 
Believe what He says! 
Believe the record God 
has given of His Son! I 
can imagine some of you 
saying, ' ' I want to, but 
I have not got the right 
kind of faith." What 
kind of faith do you 
want? Now, the idea 
that you want a different 
kind of faith is all wrong. 
Use the faith you have 
got; just believe on the Lord Jesus Christ. Not only 
that, you can't give any reason for not believing. If a 
man told me he couldn't believe me, I should have a 
right to ask him why he couldn't believe me. I should 
have a right to ask him if I had ever broken my word 
with him; and if I had not broken my word with him, 
he ought to believe me. I would like to ask you, has 
God ever broken His word? Never. My friends, He will 
keep His word. God condemns the world because they 
believe not on Him; that is the root of all evil. A man 
who believes in the Lord Jesus Christ won't murder, and 

41 



42 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



lie, and do all these awful things. Don't get caught up 
by that terrible delusion that unbelief is a misfortune. 
Unbelief is not a misfortune, but is the sin of the world. 
Christ found it on all sides of the world. When He first 
got up from the grave, He found that His disciples 
doubted. He had reason to cry out against unbelief. 

o 




People say this Bible was good enough for ancient 
days, but we have men of culture, of science, of litera- 
ture now, and its value has decreased to the people of 
our day. Now, give me a better book, and I will throw 
it away. Has the world ever offered us a better book? 
These men want us to give up the Bible. What are you 
going to give us in its place? O, how cruel infidelity is 
to tell us to give up all the hope we have, to throw away 



Moody's child stories. 43 

the only book which tells the story of the resurrection. 
They try to tell us that it is all a fiction, so that when 
we lay our loved ones in the grave we bid them farewell 
for time and eternity. Away with this terrible doctrine! 
The Bible of our fathers and mothers is true, and the 
good old way is true. When man comes and tries to 
draw us from the old to the new way, it is the work of 
the devil. But men say we have outgrown this way. 
Why don't men outgrow the light of the sun? They 
shouldn't let the light of the sun come into their build- 
ings; should have gas; the sun is old, and gas is a new 
light. There is just as much sense in this as to take 
away the Bible. How much we owe the blessed Bible! 
Why, I don't think human life would be safe if it wasn't 
for it. Look at the history of the nations where the 
Bible has been trampled under foot. Only a few years 
ago France and England were pretty nearly equal. Eng- 
land threw the Bible open to the world, and France 
tried to trample it. Now, the English language is spoken 
around the world, and its prosperity has increased, while 
it stands foremost among the nations. But look at 
France. It has gone down and down with anarchy and 
revolution. Let us not forsake the old way. 



-o- 




And The Bears. 



I said to my little 
family, one morning, a 
few weeks before the 
Chicago fire, "I am 
coming home this after- 
noon to give you a 
ride." My little boy 
clapped his hands. " O 



papa, will you take me to see the bears in Lincoln park?" 
" Yes." You know boys are very lond of seeing bears. 
I had not been gone long when my little boy said, 
Mamma, I wish you would get me ready." "0,"she 
said, "it will be a long time before your papa comes.' 
"But I want to get ready, mamma." At last he was 
ready to have the ride, face washed, and clothes all nice 
and clean. ' ' Now, you must take good care and not get 
yourself dirty again," said mamma. O, of course he was 
going to take care; he wasn't going to get dirty. So off 
he ran to watch for me. However, it was a long time yet 
until the afternoon, and after a little he began to play. 
When I got home, I found him outside, with his face all 
covered with dirt. " I can't take you to the park th;;tt 



44 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



45 



way, Willie." "Why, papa, you said you would take 
me." "Ah, but I can't; you're all over mud. I couldn't be 
seen with such a dirty little boy." "Why, I's clean, papa; 
mamma washed me." " Well, you've got dirty since." But 
be began to cry, and I could not convince him that he was 
dirty. "I's clean; mam- 
ma washed me!" he 
cried. Do you think I ar- 
gued with him? No. I 
just took him up in my 
arms, and carried him 
into the house, and 
showed him his face in 
the looking-glass. He 
had not aword to say. 
He could not take my 
word for it; but one look (^P 
at the glass was enough; 
he saw it for himself. "why, i's clean, papa." 

He didn't say he wasn't dirty after that! 

Now, the looking-glass showed him that his face was 
dirty, but I did not take the looking-glass to zuash it; 
of course not. Yet that is just what thousands of people 
do. The law is the looking-glass to see ourselves in, to 
show us how vile and worthless we are in the sight of 
God; but they take the law and try to wash themselves 
with it. 




mw$$ 



V0MSi 



K 



Al 



c^ 



e 



^y 



When- 
ever I think about this 
subject, two fathers 
come before me. One lived on 
the Mississippi river. He was a 
man of great wealth. Yet he 
would have freely given it all, 
could he have brought back Kis 
eldest boy from his early grave. 
One day that boy had been borne 
home unconscious. They did 
everything that man could do to 
restore him, bat in vain. "He 
must die," said the doctor. 
"But, doctor," said the agonized 
father, "can you do nothing to 
bring him to consciousness, even 
for a moment?" ' * That may be, " 
said the doctor, "but he can 
never live." Time passed, and 
after a terrible suspense, the 
father's wish was gratified. ' ' My 



Moody's child stories. 47 

son," he whispered, " the doctor tells me you are dying." 
' ' Well, " said the boy, ' ' you never prayed for me, father; 
won't you pray for my lost soul now?" The father wept. 
It was true he had never prayed. He was a stranger to 
God. And in a little while that soul, unprayed for, 
passed into its dark eternity. O father, if your boy was 
dying, and he called on you to pray, could you lift your 
burdened heart to heaven? Have you learned this sweet- 
est lesson of heaven on earth, to know and hold com- 
munion with your God? And before this evil world has 
marked your dearest treasures for its prey, have you 
learned to lead your little ones to a children's Christ? 

What a contrast is the other father! He, too, had a 
lovely boy, and one day he came home to find him at the 
gates of death. "A great change has come over our 
boy," said the weeping mother; "he has only been a 
little ill before, but it seems now as if he were dying 
fast." The father went into the room and placed his 
hand on the forehead of the little boy. He could see the 
boy was dying. He could feel the cold damp of death. 
"My son, do you know you are dying?" "No; am I?" 
"Yes; you are dying?" " And shall I die to-day?" Yes, 
my boy, you cannot live till night." "Well, then, I shall 
be with Jesus, to-night, won't I, father?" ' ' Yes, my 
son, you will spend to-night with the Savior." Mothers 
and fathers, the little ones may begin early; be in earnest 
with them now. You know not how soon you may be 
taken from them, or they may be taken from you. There- 



4 8 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



fore let this impression be made upon their minds, that 
you care for their souls a million times more than for 
their worldly prospects. 



-o- 




One afternoon I 
noticed a lady at 
the services whom I 
knew to be a Sun- 
day-school teacher. 
After the service I 
asked her where her 
class was. " O, " 
said she, " I went 
to the school and 
found only a little 
boy, and so I came 
the only boy in the class. away. ' ' Unly a 

little boy!" said I. "Think of the value of one such 
soul! The fires of a reformation may be slumbering in 
that tow-headed boy; there may be a young Knox, or a 
Wesley, or a Whitefield in your class." 



-o- 




Joseph Making Himself Known to His Brethren. Genesis, xlv. 




the Lord has done for you." 



When this man found 
himself delivered, he 
wanted to go with the 
Savior. That was grati- 
tude. Christ had saved 
him and redeemed him. 
He had redeemed him 
from the hand of the 
enemy. And this man 
cried, "Let me follow 
you around the world; 
where You go I will go." 
But the Lord said, "You 
go home and tell your 
friends what good things 
And he started home. I 



would like to have been in that house when he came 
there. I can imagine how the children would look when 
they saw him, and say, ' ' Father is coming. " ' ' Shut the 
door," the mother would cry. " Look out! fasten the 
window; bolt every door in the house." Many times he 
very likely had come and abused his family, and broken 
the chairs and tables and turned the mother into the 
street and alarmed all the neighbors. They see him now 



51 



52 Moody's child stories. 

coming down the street. Down he comes till he gets to 
the door, and then gently knocks. You don't hear a 
sound as he stands there. At last he sees his wife at the 
window and he says, "Mary!" "Why," she says, "he 
speaks as he did when I first married him; I wonder if 
he has got well?" So she looks out and asks, " John, is 
that you?" "Yes, Mary," he replies, " it's me; don't be 
afraid any more; I'm well now." I see that mother, how 
she pulls back the bolts of that door, and looks at him. 
The first look is sufficient, and she springs into his arms 
and clings about his neck. She takes him in and asks 
him a hundred questions — how it all happened — all 
about it. " Well, just take a chair and I'll tell you how 
I got cured." The children hang back and look amazed. 
He says, " I was there in the tombs, you know, cutting 
myself with stones, and running about in my nakedness, 
when Jesus of Nazareth came that way. Mary, did you 
ever hear of Him? He is the most wonderful man; I've 
never seen a man like Him. He just ran in and told 
those devils to leave me, and they left me. When He 
had cured me I wanted to follow Him. But He told me 
to come home and tell you all about it. The children by- 
and-by gathered about his knee, and the elder ones ran 
to tell their playmates what wonderful things Jesus had 
done for their father. Ah, my friends, we have got a 
mighty deliverer; I don't care what affliction you have, 
He will deliver you from it. The Son of God who cast 
out those devils can deliver you from your besetting sin. 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



53 




s 



A young man went home 
from one of our meetings 
some time ago. He had 
been converted. He had previously been 
dissipated young man. His mother had 
made it a rule, she told me, that she 
"would not retire till he came home." 
That was her rule, she said, " never to 
go to bed till my boy was at home. If 
he did not come home till five o'clock in the morning, I 
sat up, and when he was out all night I got no sleep; 
but when he came home I always met him with a kiss. 




"MOTHER. I HAVE BEEN CONVERTED. 



54 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



I threw my arms around his neck. I treated him just as 
if he was kind, attentive and good. Sometimes he would 
be out all night. Those nights I would not" go to bed. 
He used to know it. One night he came home. I 
looked to see if he was under the influence of liquor. He 
came up to me, and he said, ' Mother, I have been con- 
verted,' and then I fell on his neck and embraced him, 
and wept over him tears of joy. Why," said she, "Mr. 
Moody, you don't know what joy it gave me. I cannot 
tell you. You don't know what a load it took off my 
heart. You don't know how I praised God that my 
prayers had been answered." 



-o- 




I remember a mother who heard 
that her boy was impressed at one 
of our meetings. She said her son 
was a good enough boy, and he 
didn't need to be converted. I 
pleaded with that mother, but all 
my pleading was of no account. I 
tried my influence with the boy ; but when I was pulling 
one way she was pulling the other, and of course her in- 
fluence prevailed. Naturally it would. Well, to make a 
long story short, some time after, I happened to be in the 
county jail, and I saw him there. " How did you come 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



55 



here?" I asked. "Does your mother know where you 
are?" "No, don't tell her; 
I came in under an assumed 
name, and I am going to Joliet 
for four years. Do not let 
my mother know this," he 
pleaded; "she thinks I am 
in the army." I used to call 
on that mother, but I had 
promised her boy I would not 
tell her, and for four years 
she mourned over that boy. 
She thought he had died on "don't tell mother where i am.' 
the battle-field or in a southern hospital. What a bless- 
ing he might have been to that mother, if she had only 
helped us to bring him to Christ! 

o 





I remember to have 
heard a story of a bad boy 
who had run away from 
home. He had given his 
psg. father no end of trouble. 
He had refused all the in- 
vitations which his father had sent him to come home 
and be forgiven, and help comfort his old heart. He 
had even gone so far as to scoff at his father and mother. 
But one day a letter came, telling him his father was 



56 Moody's child stories. 

dead, and they wanted him to come home and attend 
the funeral. At first he determined he would not go, 
but then he thought it would be a shame not to pay 
some little respect to the memory of so good a man; and 
so, just as a matter of form, he took the train and went 
to the old home, sat through all the funeral services, saw 
his father buried, and came back with the rest of the 
friends to the house, with 
his heart as cold and 
stony as ever. But when 
the old man's will was [/ 
brought out to be read, 
the ungrateful son found 
that his father had re- $%&£. 
membered him along with 
the rest of the family, and 
had left him an inherit- 
ance with the others, who 
had not gone astray. Tbis 

broke his heart in penitence. It was too much for him, 
and his old father, during all those years in which he had 
been so wicked and rebellious, had never ceased to love 
him. That is just the way our Father in Heaven does 
with us. That is just the way Jesus does with people 
who refuse to pive their hearts to Him. He loves them 

o 

in spite of their sins, and it is this love which, more 
than anything else, brings hard-hearted sinners to their 
knees. 




HIS FATHER REMEMBERED HIM 




I can see him now. 
He has resolved. His 
old associates laugh at 
him, but what does he 
cnre for public opin- 
ion? " I have made up 
lry mind," he says. 
He don't stay to get a 
new suit of clothes, as 
some men do in com- 
ing to Christ. They 
want to do some good 
IS deeds before they 
go, kill the fatted calf. come. He just started 

as he was. I see him walking on through dusty roads 
and over hills, and fording brooks and rivers. It didn't 
take him long to go home when he made up his mind. 
Then the prodigal is nearing the homestead; see him. 
I remember going home after being away for a few 
months. How I longed to catch a glimpse of that old 
place! As I neared it I remembered the sweet hours I 
had spent with my brother, and the pleasant days of 
childhood. Here is the prodigal as he comes near his 
old home; all his days of happy childhood come before 



57 



58 Moody's child stories. 

him. He wonders if the old man is still alive, and as he 

comes near the home he says, " It may be that the old 

man is dead." Ah, what a sad thing it would have been 

if on returning he had found that his father had gone 

down to his grave mourning for him. Is there any one 

here who has a father and mother, whose love you are 

scorning, and to whom you have not written for years? 

I said to a prodigal the other night, "How long is it 

since you have written to your mother?" "Four years 

and a half." " Don't you believe your mother loves you?'» 

1 ' Yes, " he replied, "it is because she does love me that I 

don't write to her. If I was telling her the life I've been 

leading, it would break her heart. " " If you love her," 

I said, "go and write her to-night and tell her all." I 

got his promise, and I am happy. I can't tell how glad 

I feel when I get those young prodigals to turn to their 

fathers and mothers, because I know what joy will be in 

the hearts of those parents when they hear from their 

prodigal son. As he nears his father's home, he wonders 

again if his heart has turned against him, or if he will 

receive a welcome. Ah, he don't know his father's heart. 

I can see the old man up there on that flat roof, in the 

cool of the day, waiting for his boy. Every day he has 

been there, every day straining his eyes over the country 

to catch the first glimpse of his son should he return. 

This evening he is there, still hoping to see the wanderer 

comeback. By-and-by he sees a form in the distance 

coming toward the house. As he comes nearer and 



Moody's child stories. 59 

nearer he can tell it is the form of a young man. He 
cannot tell who it is by his dress. His robe is gone, his 
ring is gone, his shoes are gone, but the old man catches 
sight of the face. I see him as he comes running down, 
as if the spirit of youth has come upon him, his long 
white hair floating through the air. He rushes past his 
servants, out the door, and up to his son, whom he 
takes to his bosom. He rejoices over him. The young 
man tries to make a speech; tries to ask him to be one 
of his servants, but the father won't listen to it. When 
he gets him to the house he cries to one servant, " Go, 
get the best robe for him"; to another, " You go and get 
a ring and put on his finger"; " Get shoes for him," he 
cries to another; " Go, kill the fatted calf," is the order 
given to another, "for my son has returned." Ah, there 
was joy there. '• My boy who was dead is alive again." 
There was joy in that house. 



-o- 




I know a mother who lives 
down in the southern part of 
Indiana. Some years ago 
her boy came up to Chicago. 
He hadn't been in the city 
long before he was led astray. A neighbor happened to 
come up to Chicago, and found him one night in the 
streets drunk. When that neighbor went home, at first 



6o 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



he thought he wouldn't say anything about it to the boy's 
father, but afterwards he thought it his duty to tell him. 
So in a crowd in the street of their little town he just 
took the father aside, and told him what he had seen in 
Chicago. It was a terrible blow. When the children 
had been put to bed that 
night he said to his wife, 
' ' Wife, I have bad news. 
I have heard from Chi- 
cago to-day." The mother 
dropped her work in an 
instant and said, "Tell 
me what it is." "Well, 
our son has been seen on 
the streets of Chicago 
drunk." Neither of them 
slept that night, but they 
took their burden to 
Christ, and about day- 
light the mother said, "I 
don't know how, when or where, but God has given me 
faith to believe that our son will be saved and will never 
come to a drunkard's grave. One week after, that boy 
left Chicago. He couldn't tell why; an unseen power 
seemed to lead him to his mothers home, and the first 
thing he said on coming over the threshold was, " Mothe r , 
I have come home to ask you to pray for me." And soc n 
after he came back to Chicago a bright and shining light. 




WELL, OUR SON HAS BEEN SEEN ON 
THE STREETS OF CHICAGO 
DRUNK." 




A little child whose father and 
mother had died, was taken into 
another family. The first night 
she asked if she could pray, as she 
used to do. They said, " O, yes." 
So she knelt down, and prayed as 

her mother taught her; and <0^ 

when that was ended she 

added a little prayer of her 

own, "O God, make 

these people as kind to me 

as father and mother 

were." Then she paused 

and looked up, as if ex- 
pecting the answer, and 

added, "Of course He 

will." How sweetly simple 

was that little one's faith; l|l||Sj 

she expected God to < « do, " , , 0F C0URSE HE WILL 

and of course she got her 

request. 




61 




iS 



I remember a number of 
^ years ago I went out of Chi- 
cago to try to preach. I went 
down to a little town where 



m 



was being held a Sunday- 
school convention. I was a 
perfect stranger in the place, 
and when I arrived a man stepped up to me and asked 
me if my name was Moody. I told him it was, and he 
invited me to his house. When I got there he said he 
had to go to the convention, and asked me to excuse his 
wife, as she, not having a servant, had to attend to her 
household duties. He put me into the parlor, and told 
me to amuse myself as best I could till he came back. I 
sat there, but the room was dark, and I could not read, 
and I got tired. So I thought I would try and get the 
children and play with them. I listened for some sound 
of childhood in the house, but could not hear a single 
evidence of the presence of little ones. When my friend 
came back I said, " Haven't you any children?" " Yes," 
he replied, "I have one, but she's in heaven, and I am 
glad she is there, Moody." "Are you glad that your 
child's dead?" I inquired. 

He went on to tell me how he had worshiped that child; 
how his whole life had been bound up in her to the neg- 
lect of his Savior. One day he had come home and 

62 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



63 



found her dying. Upon her death he accused God of 
being unjust. He saw some of his neighbors with their 
children around them. Why hadn't He taken some of 
them away? He was rebellious. After he came home 
from her funeral he said, "All at once I thought I heard 
her little voice calling me, but the truth came to my 
heart that she was gone. Then I thought I heard her 
feet upon the stairs; but I knew she was lying in the 
grave. The thought of her loss almost made me mad. I 
threw myself on my bed and wept bitterly. I fell asleep, 
and while I slept I had a 
dream, but it almost 
seemed to me like a vis- 
ion. ' 'I thought I was go- 
ing over a barren field, 
and I came to a river so 
dark and chill-looking 
that I was going to turn 
away, when all at once I 
saw on the opposite bank 
the most beautiful sight 
I ever looked at. I 
thought death and sorrow could never enter into that 
iovely region. Then I began to see beings all so happy 
looking, and among them I saw my little child. 
She waved her little angel hand to me and cried, 
'Father, father, come this way.' I thought her 
voice sounded much sweeter than it did on earth. In 




SHE S IN HEAVEN. 



6 4 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



my dream I thought I went to the water and tried to 
cross it, but found it deep, and the current so rapid that 
I thought if I entered, it would carry me away from her 
forever. I tried to find a boatman to take me over, but 
couldn't, and I walked up and down the river trying to 
find a crossing, and still she cried, ' Come this way.' All 
at once I heard a voice come rolling down, ' I am the 
way, the truth and the life; no man cometh unto the 
Father but by Me.' The voice awoke me from my sleep, , 
and I knew it was my Savior calling me, and pointing 
the way for me to reach my darling child. I am now 
superintendent of a Sunday-school; I have made many 
converts; my wife has been converted, and we will, 
through Jesus as the way, see one day our child." 

_o 



I remember when Dr. 
Arnold, who has gone to 
God, was delivering a ser- 
mon, he used this illustra- 
tion. The sermon and text 
have all gone, but that illus- 
tration is fresh upon my 
mind to-night and brings 



^T> home the truth. He said, 



'7%0f \ ' You have been sometimes 

out at dinner with a friend, and you have seen the faith- 
ful household dog standing watching every mouthful his 





The Nativity. Luke, ii, 7-20. 



Moody's child stories. 67 

master takes. All the crumbs that fall on the floor he 
picks up, and seems eager for them, but when his master 
takes a plate of beef and 
puts it on the floor and 
says, ' Rover, here's 
something for you,' he 
comes up and smells of 
it, looks at his master, 
and goes away to a cor- 
ner of the room. He 
was willing to eat the 
crumbs, but he wouldn't 
touch the roast beef; 
thought it was too good 
for him." That is the 
way with a good many 
Christians. They are will- 
ing - to eat the crumbs HE WOULDNT touch the roast beef. 
but not willing to take all God wants. Come boldly to 
the throne of grace and get the help you need; there is 
an abundance for every man, woman and child. 

o 

I remember a child that 
lived with her parents in a 
small village. One day the 
news came that her father 
had joined the army (it was at the beginning of our war), 





68 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



and a few days after the landlord came to demand the 
rent. The mother told him she hadn't got it, and that 
her husband had gone into the army. He was a hard- 
hearted wretch, and he stormed and said that they must 
leave the house; he wasn't going to have people who 
couldn't pay the rent. After he was gone, the mother 
threw herself into the arm-chair, and began to weep 
bitterly. Her little girl, whom she had taught to pray in 
faith (but it is more difficult to practice than to preach), 
came up to her, and said, 
" What makes you cry, 
mamma? I will pray to 
God to give us a little 
house, and won't He?" 
What could the mother 
say? So the little child 
went into the next room 
and began to pray. The 
door was open, and the 
mother could hear every 
word, " O God, you have "what makes you cry, mamma?" 
come and taken away father, and mamma has got no 
money, and the landlord will turn us out because we 
can't pay, and we will have to sit on the doorstep, and 
mamma will catch cold. Give us a little home." Then 
she waited as if for an answer, and then added, " Won't 
you, please, God? ! ' She came out of the room quite 
happy, expecting a house to be given them. The mother 




MOODYS CHILD STORIES. 



6 9 



felt reproved. I can tell you, however, she has never 
paid any rent since, for God heard the prayer of that 
little one, and touched the heart of the cruel landlord. 
God give us the faith of that little child, that we may 
likewise expect an answer, ' ' nothing wavering. 



•0- 



Son, 
Remember 



1 have been twice in the jaws of death. Once I was 
drowning, and the third time I was about to sink I was 
rescued. In the twinkling of an eye everything I had 
said, done, or thought of, flashed across my mind. I do 
not understand how everything in a man's life can be 
crowded into his recollection in an instant of time, but 
nevertheless it all flashed through my mind. Another 
time when I thought I was dying, it all came back to me 
again. It is just so that all things we think we have for- 



?o 



Moody's child stories. 



gotten will come back by-and-by. It is only a question 
of time. We will hear the words, "Son, remember," 
and it is a good deal better for us now to remember our 
sins and confess them before it is too late. Christ said 
to His disciples, "Remember Lot's wife." Over and 
over again, when the children of Israel were brought out 
of Egypt, God said to them, ' ' Remember where I found 
you, and how I delivered you." He wanted them to 
remember His goodness to them, and the time is coming 
when, if they forget His goodness and despise it, they 
will be without mercy. 



■o- 




I remember in the north 
of England a prominent 
citizen told a sad case that 
happened there in the city 
of Newcastle-on-Tyne. It 
was about a young boy. He 
was very young. He was an only child. The father and 
mother thought everything of him and did all they could 
for him. But he fell into bad ways. He took up with 
evil characters, and finally got to running with thieves. 
He didn't let his parents know about it. By-and-by the 
gang he was with broke into the house, and he with 
them. Yes, he had to do it all. They stopped outside 
of the building, while he crept in and started to rob the 



MOODYS CHILD STORIES. 



71 



till. He was caught in the act, taken into court, tried, 
convicted, and sent to the penitentiary for ten years. 
He worked on and on in the convict's cell, till at last his 
term was out, and at once started for home. And when 
he came back to the town he started down the street 
where his father and mother used to live. He went to 
the house and rapped. A stranger came to the door and 
stared him in the face. "No, there's no such person 
lives here, and where your parents are I don't know," 
was the only welcome he received. Then he turned 
through the gate, and went 
down the street, asking even 
the children that he met 
about his folks, where they 
were living, and if they were 
well. But everybody looked 
blank. Ten years rolled by, 
and though that seemed per- 
haps a short time, how 
many changes had taken 
place! There where he 
was born and brought 
up he was now an alien, 
and unknown even in 
the old haunts. But at 
last he found a couple " M0THER - M0THER - D0N ' T Y0U KN0W MF -" 
of townsmen that remembered his father and mother, 
but they told him the old house had been deserted long 




72 



MOODYS CHILD STORIES. 



years ago, that he had been gone but a few months be- 
fore his father was confined to his house, and very soon 
after died broken-hearted, and that his mother had gone 
out of her mind. He went up to the mad-house where 
his mother was, and went up to her and said, " Mother, 
mother, don't you know me? I am your son." But she 
raved and slapped him on the face and shrieked, ( ' You 
are not my son," and then raved again and tore her hair. 
He left the asylum more deadthan alive, so completely 
broken-hearted that he died in a few months. Yes, the 
fruit was long growing, but at the last it ripened on the 
harvest like a whirlwind. 



-o- 




I once knew a little cripple who lay 
upon her death-bed. She had given her- 
self to God, and was distressed only be- 
cause she could not labor for Him actively 
among the lost. Her clergyman visited 
her, and hearing her complaint, rold her 
that there from her sick-bed she could 
offer prayers for those whom she wished 
to see turning to God. He advised her to 
write the names down, and then to pray earnestly; and 
then he went away and thought of the subject no more. 
Soon a feeling of great religious interest sprang up in 
the village, and the churches were crowded nightly. The 



MOODYS CHILD STORIES. 



73 



little cripple heard of the progress of the revival, and 
inquired anxiously for the 
names of the saved. A 
few weeks later she died, 
and among a roll of 
papers that was found 
under her little pillow 
was one bearing the 
names of fifty-six per- 
sons, every one of whom 
had in the revival been 
converted. By each 
name was a little cross, 
by which the poor crip- HE advised her to write the names 

DOWN, AND THEN PRAY EARNESTLY. 

pled saint had checked 

off the name of the converts as they had been reported 

to her. 

o ■ 





VICTORY. 

I remember when out in 
Kansas, while holding a 
meeting, I saw a little boy who came up to the window 
crying. I went to him and said, ' ' My little boy, what is 
your trouble?" "Why, Mr. Moody, my mother's dead, 
and my father drinks, and they don't love me, and the 



74 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



Lord won't have anything to do with me because I am a 
poor drunkard's boy." "You have got a wrong idea, my 
boy; Jesus will love you and save you, and your father 
too," and I told him a story of a little boy in an eastern 
city. The boy said his father would never allow the 
canting hypocrites of Christians to come into his house, 
and would never allow his child to go to Sunday-school. 
A kind-hearted man got his little boy and brought him 
to Christ. When Christ gets into a man's heart, he 
cannot help but pray. 
This father had been 
drinking one day and 
coming home he heard 
that boy praying. He 
went to him and said, 
"I don't want you to 
pray any more. You've 
been along with some 
of those Christians. If 
I catch you praying 
again I'll flog you." But 
the boy was filled with God, and he couldn't help praying. 
The door of communication was opened between him and 
Christ, and his father caught him praying again. He 
went to him. " Didn't I tell you never to pray again? 
If I catch you at it once more, you leave my house." E'e 
thought he would stop him. Not very long after this, one 
4ay his father had been drinking more than usual, and 




DIDN T I TELL YOU NEVER TO PRAY 
AGAIN?" 



Moody's child stories. 75 

coming in found the boy offering a prayer. He caught 
the boy with a push and said, " Didn't I tell you never 
to pray again? Leave this house. Get your things packed 
up and go." The little fellow hadn't many things to get 
together — a drunkard's boy never has — and he went up 
to his mother's room. " Good-by, mother." "Where 
are you going?" " I don't know where I'll go, but father 
says I cannot stay here any longer; I've been praying 
again," he said. The mother knew it wouldn't do to try 
to keep the boy when her husband had ordered him away, 
so she drew him to her bosom and kissed him, and bid 
him good-by. He went to his brothers and sisters and 
kissed them good-by. When he came to the door, his 
father was there, and the little fellow reached out his 
hand. " Good-by, father; as long as I live I will pray 
for you," and left the house. He hadn't been gone many 
minutes when the father rushed after him. ""My boy, 
if that is religion, if it can drive you away from father 
and mother and home, I want it." Yes, maybe some 
other little boy has got a drinking father and mother. 
Lift your voice to heaven, and the news will be carried 
up to heaven, " He prays." 



-0- 




There are four men coming 
down the streets of Capernaum. 
I never knew them, but if I 
met them in the streets of Bos- 
ton, I should feel like grasping 
them by the hand. Perhaps 
one of them was he who wsts 
converted not long before; per- 
haps the other was the leper 
who went to Jesus and got 
cured, and when he came 
home, his wife didn't know who 
is was, and couldn't believe it was her husband; and an- 
other had been cured perhaps of blindness, and here was 
the man with the palsy who had nearly shaken himself 
into his grave. The doctors of Jerusalem had all given 
him up as a hopeless case. "Why," they said, "he 
cannot even get his food to his mouth, he shakes so. 
We can't do anything with him." Well, these young 
converts came along — I suppose they were young; they 
have more faith than any one else — and they see this man 
with the palsy and instantly say that one word from Him 
will put it away. But they cannot get him there; they 
don't see how they can carry him, and finally one of them 

76 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



77 



goes and gets a neighbor, and says, ' ' Here's a man with 
the palsy; if we can get him up to where Christ is, He 
can just heal him at once." I think he would be 
astonished, and say, "What, save that man; impossible! 
He can't be cured." But the young convert persists, 
and tells him of those who had been made to see, and 
the deaf to hear, and the lame to walk, and so convinced 




"THY sins are forgiven thee." 

the neighbor that at last he said, ' ' Well, I will help you 
and go and see this wonderful physician," and away they 
go and hunt up another young convert, who had been 
lame for years. He is not strong enough to help them, 
however, and they find another man. He has been deaf 
and dumb for years. And these four young converts take 



yS MOODY'S CHILD STORIES. 

this man with the palsy and put him, I suppose, on what 
we called during the war a stretcher, and away they go 
to Christ. They had faith in what they were about. I 
can imagine the young men saying, as they carry him 
along, " We will not have to carry him back again; the 
palsy will be gone; it will be cured then." On they go 
with their load, and when they get to the house, they find 
it crowded inside and a multitude standing outside. They 
say to the people, " Let us pass; we want to take the 
poor man to Christ." But they say. " Why, there is no 
hope for him; he is past all cure." "Ah," say the your g 
converts, "that is nothing. Jesus of Nazareth can cure 
him; all things are possible to Him." But they wouldn't 
stand aside. They wouldn't allow them to get in. But 
these four men are not going to take this man back. 
They are determined not to fail. They hesitate a mo- 
ment, then go to the next house; it is a neighbor's. There 
were no bells in those days, and so they knock. When 
the neighbor comes to the door they say, "We want to 
get into the next house; let us go through yours." " O, 
yes," says the man, and they ascend the staircase, and 
get on the roof, and get over to the next house. There's 
no entrance through there, and so they dig a hole, they 
tear up this roof. A great many people in this city 
would be opposed to this sort of thing. They would say. 
" If you want to get into the house, you want things to 
be done decently; don't tear up the roof in that way.* 
But, my friends, if we want to go to work for Christ, wa 



MOODYS CHILD STORIES. 



79 



must tear off the top of the house, if it's necessary. We 
must use vigorous means. These young men had good 
faith, and that's what we want here. But when they had 
torn off the roof they had nothing to let the man down 
by. So they looked about and made a rope of their own 
clothing, and down they laid him right among the Phari- 
sees and learned doctors, right at the feet of Jesus. And 
it is a good place to put a poor sinner. And we are not 
told whether that man with the palsy had any faith. But 
the Son of God looked up, and saw their faith, the faith 
of the four men, and it pleased Him. It was like a cup 
of refreshment that satisfied the longings of His soul; He 
saw the brightness of their faith when He looked upon 
them. And He said to the sick man, " Son, be of good 
cheer, thy sins are forgiven thee." 

o 




there 



I read some time ago of a vessel 
that had been off on a whaling voy- 
age, and had been gone about three 
years. I saw the account in print 
somewhere lately, but it happened a 
long time ago. The father of one of 
those sailors had charge of the light- 
house, and he was expecting his boy 
^,y. to come home. It was time for the 
Sfi^-^ whaling vessel to return. One night 
came up a terrible gale, and this father fell asleep, 



8o 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



and while he slept his light went out. When he awoke 
he looked toward the shore, and saw there had been a 
vessel wrecked. He at once went to see if he could not 
yet save some one who 



might be still alive. The 
first body that came floating 
towards the shore was, to 
his great grief and surprise, 
the body of his own boy. 
He had been watching for 
that boy for many days, and 
he had been gone for three 
years. Now, the boy had 
at last come in sight of 
home, and had perished be- 
cause his father had let his HIS father let the light go out. 
light go out. I thought, what an illustration of fathers 
and mothers to-day that have let their light go out! 




-o- 




I remember in the exposition 
building in Dublin, while I was 
speaking about heaven, I said 
something to the effect that, 
' ' perhaps at this moment a 
mother is looking down from heaven upon her daughter 
here to-night," and I pointed down to a young lady in 




The Star in the East. Matthew, ii, 1-12. 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



83 



the audience. Next morning I received this letter: 

" On Wednesday, when you were speaking of heaven, 
you said, ' It may be this moment there is a mother look- 
ing down from heaven expecting the salvation of her 
child who is here. You were apparently looking at the 
very spot where my child was sitting. My heart said, 
'That is my child. That is her mother.' Tears sprang 
to my eyes. I bowed my head and prayed, ' Lord, 
direct that word 
to my darling 
child's heart; 
Lord, save my 
child." I was 
then anxious till 
the close of the 
meeting, when I 
went to her. She 
was bathed in 
tears. She rose, 
put her arms 
round me, and 
kissed me. When 
walking down to 

SPEAKING ABOUT HEAVEN. 

you she told me it was that same remark (about the 
mother looking down from heaven) that found the way 
home to her, and asked me, * Papa, what can I do for 
Jesus" 





In Chicago a few 
years ago there was 
a little boy who 
went to one of the 
mission Sunday- 
schools. His father 
moved to another 
part of the city about 
five miles away, and 
every Sunday that boy came past thirty or forty Sunday- 
schools to the one he attended. And one Sunday a lady 
who was out collecting scholars for a Sunday-school met 
him and asked why he went so far, past so many schools. 
" There are plenty of others," said she, "just as good." 
He said, ' ' They may be as 
good, but they are not so 
good for me."" Why 
not?" she asked. "Because 
they love a fellow over 
there," he answered. Ah, 
love won him! "Because 
they love a fellow over 
there!" How easy it is to 
reach people through love!" 

Sunday-school teachers should win the affections of their 
scholars if they wish to lead them to Christ. 




8 4 




IF I TELL THE WORLD OF JESUS. 



I remember 
while in Boston 
I attended one 
of the daily 
prayer -meet- 
ings. The meet- 
ings we had 
been holding 
had been al- 
most always 
addressed b y 
young men. 
Well, in that 
meeting a little 
tow-headed 



Norwegian boy stood up. He could hardly speak a word 

of English plain, but he got up and came to the front. 

He trembled all over, and the tears were trickling down 

his cheeks, but he spoke out as well as he could, and 

said, " If I tell the world about Jesus, then will he tell 

the Father about me." He then took his seat; that was 

all he said; but I tell you that in those few words-he said 
more than all of them, old and young together. Those 

few words went straight down into the heart of every one 

present. * * If I tell the world; " yes, that's what it means 

to confess Christ. 



85 




I am told that when 
General Sherman went 
through Atlanta t o- 
ward the sea, through 
the southern states; he left in the fort, in the Kenesaw 
mountains, a little handful of men to guard some rations 
that he brought there. And General Hood got into the 
outer rear and attacked the fort, drove the men in from 




HOLD THE FORT, FOR I AM COMING. 

the outer works into the inner works, and for a long time 
the battle raged fearfully. Half of the men were either 
killed or wounded; the general who was in command was 
wounded seven different times; and when they were 

86 



Moody's child stories. 87 

about ready to run up the white flag and surrender the 
fort, Sherman got within fifteen miles, and through the 
signal corps on the mountain he sent the message, 
"Hold the fort; I am coming. W. T. Sherman.' 
That message fired up their hearts, and they held the 
fort till reinforcements came, and thefort did not go into 
the hands of their enemies. Our friend, Mr. Bliss, has 
written a hymn entitled ' ' Hold the fort, for I am coming, " 
and I'm going to ask Mr. Sankey to sing that hymn. I 
hope there will be a thousand young converts coming 
into our ranks to help hold the fort. Our Savior is in 
command, and He is coming. Let us take up the chorus. 

Ho! my comrades, see the signal 

Waving in the sky! 
Reinforcements now appearing, 

Victory is nigh! 

Cho. — " Hold the fort, for I am coming," 
Jesus signals still, 
Wave the answer back to heaven, 
" By Thy grace we will." 

See the mighty hosts advancing, 

Satan lending on; 
Mighty men around us falling, 

Courage almost gone. — Cho. 

See the glorious banner waving, ' 

Hear the bugle blow, 
In our leader's name we'll triumph 

Over every foe. — Cho. 

Fierce and long the battle rages, 
But our Help is near; 
. Onward comes our Great Commander, 
Cheer, my comrades, cheer!— Cho. 

P. P. Bliss. 




When I was holding 
meetings a little time ago, 
at Wharnecliff, in England, 
a coal district, a great burly 
collier came up to me, and 
said in his Yorkshire dialect, 
' ' Dost know wha was at 
meetin' t'night?" "No," I 
answered. "Why," said 
he, " So-and-so" (mention- 
ing name). The name was 
a familiar one. He was a 
very bad man, one of the 
wildest, wickedest men in 
Yorkshire, according to his own confession, and accord- 
ing to the confession of everybody who knew him. 
"Well," said the man, "he cam' into meetin' an' said 
you didn't preach right; he said thou didn't preach noth- 
in' but the love o' Christ, an' that won't do for drunken 
colliers; ye want shake 'em over a pit, and he says he'll 
ne'er come again." He thought I didn't preach about 
hell. Mark you, my friends, I believe in the pit that 
burns, in the fire that's never quenched, in the worm 
that never dies; but I believe that the magnet that goes 
down to the bottom of the pit is the love of Jesus. I 

88 



Moody's child stories. 89 

didn't expect to see him again, but he came the next 
night, without washing his face, right from the pit, with 
all his working clothes upon him. This drunken colliei 
sat down on one of the seats that were used for the chil- 
dren, and got as near to me as possible. The sermon 
was love from first to last. He listened at first atten- 
tively, but by-and-by I saw him with the sleeve of his 
rough coat, wiping his eyes. Soon after we had an in- 
quiry-meeting, when some of those praying colliers got 
around him, and it wasn't long before he was crying, 
"O Lord, save me; I am lost; Jesus, have mercy upon 
me"; and he left that meeting a new creature. His wife 
told me herself what occurred when he came home. 
His little children heard him coming along; they knew 
the step of his heavy clogs, and ran to their mother in 
terror, clinging to her skirts. He opened the door as 
gently as could be. He had had a habit of banging the 
doors. When he came into the house and saw the chil-* 
dren clinging to their mother, frightened, he just stooped 
down and picked up the youngest girl in his arms, and 
looked at her, the tears rolling down his cheeks. ' ' Mary, 
God has sent thy father home to thee," and kissed her. 
He picked up another, " God has sent thy father home"; 
and from one to another he went, and kissed them all; 
and then came to his wife and put his arms around her 
neck, "Don't cry, lass; don't cry. God has sent thy 
husband home at last; don't cry," and all she could do 
was to put her arms around his neck and sob. And then 



90 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



he said, "Have you got a Bible in the house, lass?" 
They hadn't such a thing. "Well, lass, if we haven't we 
must pray." They got down on their knees, and all he 
could say was: 

" Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, 
Look upon a little child; 
Pity my simplicity — 

for Jesus Christ's sake, amen." It was a simple prayer, 

but God answered it. While I was at Barnet some time 

after that, a friend came to me, and said, "I've got 

good news for you. So-and-so [mentioning the collier's 

name] is preaching the gospel everywhere he goes, in the 

pit, and out of the pit, and tries to win everybody to the 

Lord Jesus Christ." 

_ _ 




Let met give you a leaf 
out of my experience. 
When I was in Boston I 
used to attend a Sabbath- 
school class, and one day 
I recollect a Sabbath- 
school teacher came 
around behind the counter of the shop I used to work in, 
and put his hand on my shoulder, and talked to me 
about Christ and my soul. I had not felt I had a soul 
till then. I said, " This is a very strange thing; here is 
a man who never saw me till within a few days, and he 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



91 



is weeping over my sins, and I never shed a tear about 
them." But I understand it now, and know what it is 
to have a passion for men's souls and weep over their 
sins. I don't remember what he said, but I can feel the 
power of that young man's hand on my shoulder to-night. 
Young Christian men, go and lay your hand on your com- 
rade's shoulder, and point him to Jesus. Well, he got 
me up to the school, 
and it was not long 
before 1 was brought 
into the kingdom of 
God. I went thou- 
sands of miles away 
after that, but I often 
thought I should like 
to see that man 
again. Time rolled 
on, and at length I 
was at Boston again; 
and I recollect, one 
night when I was 
preaching there, a 
fine, noble-looking he put his hand on my shoulder. 
young man came up the aisle, and said, "I should like 
to speak with you, Mr. Moody; I have often heard my 
father talk about you." " Who is your father?" I asked. 
''Edward Kemble,"was the reply. "What!" said I, 
"my old Sunday-school teacher?" I asked him his 




92 Moody's child stories. 

name, and he said it was Henry, and that he was seven- 
teen years of age. I tried to put my hand on his shoulder 
just where his father did on my shoulder, and I said to 
him, " You are just as old as I was when your father put 
his hand on my shoulder. Are you a Christian, Henry?" 
" No, sir," he said; and as I talked to him about his 
soul with my hand on his shoulder, the tears began to 
trickle down. " Come," said I, " I will show you how 
you can be saved," and I took him into a pew and quoted 
promise after promise to him. And I went on praying 
with him, but as he did not get light, I read to him the 
fifty-third chapter of Isaiah, "All we, like sheep, have 
gone astray." "Do you believe that, Henry?" "Yes, 
sir, I know that's true." " 'We have turned every one 
to his own way.' Is that true?" "Yes, sir; that's true, 
and that's what troubles me; I like my own way." " But 
there is another sentence yet, Henry; l The Lord hath 
laid on Him the iniquity of us all.' Do you believe that, 
Henry?" "No, I do not, sir." " Now," I said, "why 
should you take a verse of God's word and cut it in two, 
and believe one part and not another. Here are two 
things against you, and you believe them; and here is 
one in your favor, but you won't believe that. What 
authority have you for serving God's word in that way?" 
"Well," he said, "Mr. Moody, if I believed that I 
should be saved." \ ' I know you would," I replied, " and 
that's exactly what I want you to do. But you take the 
bitter, and won't have the sweet with it." So I held 
him to that little word hath—" He hath laid on Him the 
iniquity of us all." 




A little child 
at one of the 
meetings was 
seen talking so 
earnestly to a 
companion that 
a lady sat by her 

to hear what she was saying, and found that the dear child 

was telling how much Jesus loved her, and how she loved 

Him, and asked 

her little com- 
panion if she 

would not love 

Him too. The 

lady was so 

much im- 
pressed by the 

child's words 

that she spoke 

to an anxious 

soul that very how much she loved jesus. 

night for the first time in her life. And so ' ' a little child 

shall lead them." 




93 




When the California 
gold fever broke out, a 
man went there, leaving 
his wife in New Eng- 
land with his boy. As 
soon as he got on and 
was successful he WcS 
to send for them. It 
was a long time before 
he succeeded, but at last 
he got money enough to 
send for them. The 
wife's heart leaped with 

joy. She took her boy to New York, got on board a 
Pacific steamer, and sailed away to San Francisco. They 
had not been long at sea before the cry of " Fire! fire!" 
rang through the ship, and rapidly it gained on them. 
There was a powder magazine on board, and the captain 
knew the moment the fire reached the powder, every man, 
woman, and child must perish. They got out the life- 
boats, but they were too small! In a minute they were 
overcrowded. The last one was just pushing awa) T , 
when the mother pleaded with them to take her and her 
boy. " No," they said, "we have got as many as we 



94 



MOODYS CHILD STORIES. 



95 



can hold. " She entreated them so earnestly that at last 
they said they would take one more. Do you think she 
leaped into that boat and left her boy to die? No! She 
seized her boy. gave him one last hug, kissed him, and 
dropped him over into the boat. " My boy," she said, 
"if you live to see your father, tell him I died in your 
place." This is a faint type of what Christ has done for 
us. He laid down his life for us. He died that we might 
live. Now, will you not love Him? What would you 
say of that young man if he should speak contemptuously 
of such a Savior? May God make us loyal to Christ! 
My friends, you will need Him one day. You will need 
Him when you come to cross the swellings of Jordan. 
You will need Him when you stand at the bar of God. 

o 




My little boy had some trouble 
with his sister one Saturday, and 
he did not want to forgive her. 
And at night he was going to say 
his prayers, and I wanted to see 
how he would say his prayers, and 
he knelt down by his mother and 
said his prayers, and then I went up 
to him, and I said, " Willie, did 
you pray?" "I said my prayers." 
"Yes, but did you pray?" "I said 
my prayers." "I know you said 



9 6 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



them, but did you pray?" He hung his head. "You 

are angry with your sister?" " Well, she had no 

business to do thus and so." "That has nothing 

to do with it; you have the wrong idea, my boy, 

if you think that you have prayed to-night." You see 

he was trying to get over it by saying, ' ' I said my 

prayers to-night." I find that people say their prayers 

every night, just to ease their conscience. And then I 

said, ' ' Willie, if you don't forgive your sister, you will 

not sleep to-night. Ask 

her to forgive you." He 

didn't want to do that. 

He . loves the country, 

and he has been talking 

a great deal about the 

time when he can go into 

the country and play out- 
's? 
doors. So he said, " O, 



yes, I will sleep well S8||§i 
enough; I am going to 

think about being out " l SAID MY PRAYERS " 

there in the country." That is the way that we are try- 
ing to do; we are trying to think of something else to get 
rid of the thought of these sins, but we cannot. I said 
nothing more to him. I went on studying, and h?S 
mother came down stairs. But soon he called his mother, 
and said, ' ' Mother, won't you please go up and ask 
Emma if she won't forgive me?" Then I afterwards 





The Fligth Into Egypt. Matthew, n, 13-15- 



to .4 



mOody's child stories. 



99 



heard him murmuring in bed, and he was saying his 
prayers. And he said to me, "Papa, you were right, I 
could not sleep, and I cannot tell you how happy I am 
now." Don't you think there is any peace until your sins 
are put away. My dear friends, the gospel of the Lord 

Jesus Christ is the gospel of peace. 

o 

There is an in- 
stitution in Lon- 
don, in connection 
with which a gen- 
tleman of wealth 
has done a great 
deal of good. He 
went down to the 
Seven Dials, one 
of the worst places 
in London, and 
there he used to 
stay till two o'clock in the morning, picking up young 
street Arabs, and taking them into the house of shelter. 
That man has spent thousands of pounds in that quarter 
of London. When I was there he had upwards of three 
hundred young men, whom he had brought from those 
slums, who were, some in China, others in Australia, and 
some in this country. When he would take them from 
the horrible pit he would have their photographs taken 




LofC. 



100 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



m their rags and dirt. Then they were taken to a bath 
and given new clothes. They were put into an institu- 
tion, taught a trade, and not only the rules of life, but 
every one of them was taught to read his Bible. After 
keeping them a few years and educating them, before 
they left, they were taken to a photograph gallery and 
had their picture taken, and both were given to them. 
This was to show them the condition in which the insti- 
tution found them, and that in which it left them. So, 
my friends, remember where God found you. 



o- 




There was a 
time when our 
little boy did not 

like to go to 
church, and 
would get up in 
the morning, and 
say to his mother, 

TEACHING HER CHILD 'What day is to- 

morrow?" "Tuesday." "Next day?" "Wednesday." 
" Next day?" "Thursday;" and so on, till he came to 
the answer, "Sunday." "Dear me," he said. I said 
to the mother, "We cannot have our boy grow up to 
hate Sunday in this way; that will never do. That is 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



IOI 



the way [ used to feel when I was a boy. I used to look 
upon Sunday with a certain amount of dread. Very few 
kind words were associated with the day. I don't know 
that the minister ever put his hand on my head. I don't 
know that the minister ever noticed me, unless it was 
when I was asleep in the gallery, and he woke me up. 
This kind of thing won't do; we must make the Sunday 
the most attractive day of the week; not a day to be 
dreaded; but a day of pleasure." Well, the mother took 
the work up with this boy. 
Bless those mothers in 
their work with the chil- 
dren. Sometimes I feel 
as if I would rather be the 
mother of John Wesley or 
Martin Luther or John 
Knox than have all the 
glories in the world. Those 
mothers who are faithful 
with the children God has 
given them will not go un- MRS . moody teaching her child. 
rewarded. My wife went to work and took those Bible 
stories and put those blessed truths in a light that the 
child could comprehend, and soon the feeling of dread 
for the Sabbath with the boy was the other way. ' ' What 
day's to-morrow?" he would ask. "Sunday." "I am 
glad." And if we make those Bible truths interesting — 
break them up in some shape so that the children can 
get at them, then they will begin to enjoy them. 





Dr. Booth of New York, 
"who has lost all his chil- 
dren—I say lost, but they 
are not lost; they are all in heaven— was 
telling me about being in an eastern 
country some time ago, and he saw a 
shepherd going down to a stream, and 
he wanted to get his flock across. He 
went into the water and called them by 

name, but they came down to the bank and bleated, and 

were too much afraid to follow. At last he got out of 

the water, tightened his girdle about his loins, and took 

up two little 

lambs and put 

one inside his 

frock, and an- 
other inside his 

bosom. And 

then he started 

into the water, 

and the old ones 

looked up to the 

shepherd instead 

of down into the 

water. They 

wanted to see 




HE TOOK UP TWO LITTLE LAMBS. 



1 02 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



103 



their little ones, and so he got them over the water and 

led them into the green pastures on the other side. How 

many times the Good Shepherd has come down here and 

taken a little lamb to the hilltops of glory, and then the 

father and mother begin to look up and follow! Am I 

not talking to some father or mother that has some 

loved one gone over the stream? The Good Shepherd 

has taken it that He may draw you to the world of light, 

where He has gone to prepare mansions for those that 

love Him. 

o 

When I was a little 
boy, I remember I 
tried to catch my 
shadow. I don't 
know i£ you were 
ever so foolish; but I 
remember running 
after it, and trying 
'to get ahead of it. I 
could not see why 
the shadow always 
kept ahead of me. 
Once I happened to 
be racing with my 
face to the sun, and 
I looked over my head and saw my shadow coming back 




104 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



of me, and it kept behind me all the way. It is the 
same with the Son of Righteousness; peace and joy will 
go with you while you go with your face toward Him, 
and these people who are getting at the back of the sun 
are in darkness all the time. Turn to the light of God, 
and the reflection will flash in your heart. Don't say 
that God will not forgive you. It is only your will which 
keeps His forgiveness from you. 

o 




There was an Englishman who 
had an only son; and only sons 
are often petted, and humored 
and ruined. This boy became 
very headstrong, and very often 
he and his father had trouble. 
One day they had a quarrel, and 
the father was very angry, and so 
was the son; and the father said 
he wished the boy would leave 
home and never come back. The boy said he would go, 
and would not come into his father's house again till he 
sent for him. The father said he would never send for 
him. Well, away went the boy. But when a father 
gives up a boy, a mother does not. You mothers will 
understand that, but the fathers may not. You know 
there is no love on earth so strong as a mother's love. A 
great many things may separate a man and his wife; a 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



I05 



great many things may separate a father from his son, 
but there is nothing in the wide world that can ever sep- 
arate a true mother from her child. To be sure, there 
are some mothers that have drank so much liquor that 
they have drunk up all their affection. But I am talking 
about a true mother; and she would never cast off her boy. 




NOW, MY SON, JUST SPEAK TO YOUR FATHER. 

Well, the mother began to write, and plead with the 
*Oy to write to his father first, and he would forgive him; 
but the boy said, " I will never go home till father asks 
me." Then she plead with the father, but the father said, 



io6 Moody's child stories. 

"No, I will never ask him." At last the mother came 
down to her sick-bed, broken-hearted, and when she was 
given up by the physicians to die, the husband, anxious 
to gratify her last wish, wanted to know if there was 
nothing he could do for her before she died. The mother 
gave him a look; he well knew what it meant. Then 
shp said, ' ' Yes, there is one thing you can do. You can 
send for my boy. That is the only wish on earth you 
can gratify. If you do not pity him and love him wher\« 
I am dead and gone, who will?" " Well," said the father, 
"I will send word to him that you want to see him." 
"No," she says, "you know he will not come for me. 
If ever I see him you must send for him." 

At last the father went to his office and wrote a dis- 
patch in his own name, asking the boy to come home. 
As soon as he got the invitation from his father, he started 
off to see his dying mother. When he opened the door 
to get in, he found his mother dying and his father by the 
bedside. The father heard the door open, and saw the 
boy, but instead of going to meet him, he went to another 
part of the room, and refused to speak to him. His 
mother seized his hand; how she had longed to press it! 
She kissed him, and then said, " Now, my son, just speak 
to your father. You speak first, and it will all be over." 
But the boy said, " No, mother; I will not speak to him 
until he speaks to me." She took her husband's hand in 
one hand and the boy's in the other, and spent her dying 
moments in trying to bring about a reconciliation. Thee 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



107 



just as she was expiring, she could not speak, so she put 

the hand of the wayward boy into the hand of the father, 

and passed away. The boy looked at the mother, and 

the father at the wife, and at last the father's heart 

broke, and he opened his arms, and took that boy to his 

bosom, and by that body they were reconciled. Sinner, 

that is only a faint type, a poor illustration, because God 

is not angry with you. 

I bring you to-night to the dead body of Christ. I ask 

you to look at the wounds in his hands and feet, and the 

wound in his side. And I ask you, "Will you not be 

reconciled?" 

o 

At one of 
our meetings 
in England, a 
noted dog- 
fighter was 
present, and 
related the 
following 
story about 
himself. 

He said he had been carrying on the business of a dog- 
fighter in the east end of London, and had a very valua- 
ble dog, called " Tiger, " which had cost a deal of money, 
and had also won a good deal of money in dog-fights. 




io8 



MOODYS CHILD STORIES. 



Well, he had a fight on the dog for Whit-Monday, for 
£20; but a few da)'s before that a little child of his died, 
and it had affected him very much. He did not know 
what to do to get rid of his feelings, and so he was going 
to a public-house to have a pipe and something to drink, 
to help him to forget his sorrow; but as he was going he 
thought, "Well, there's this Moody and Sankey, suppose 
I go and hear them?" He went and heard Mr. Moody 
speak, and came out thinking it was all very good, but 
did not concern him. His 
business was very dull, 
and he had no sport to 
go to, so he went again. 
This time Mr. Aitken was 
the preacher, and the man 
said that it appeared as if 
the preacher left off speak- 
ing to the audience and 
directed his remarks 
straight at him. He sat 
down that he should not 
see him, but he only hit 
him harder than before. 
The service being over, he felt uncomfortable, and went 
and made inquiries about the matter, and then found 
that all men were born in sin. After a deal of conver- 
sation, and by the grace of God, he was enabled to trust 
simply in Jesus, and since that time he had been quite 




HE THREW THE DOG IN THE RIVER. 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



109 



happy. There was his dog; what was he to do with 
that? Every time he saw Tiger he saw there was a 
terrible link between his past life and his present, and he 
was afraid if he sold the dog, he would only lead some 
one else into sin. So he at last decided to destroy the 
dog, although it cost him a good sum of money, and 
was a very valuable animal. This he did; he tied the 
dog in a sack and drowned him in the river. 

o 




One day in 
the inquiry- 
room, a man 
about my age 
came to me, 

WEEPING FOR HIS CHILDREN. and he sald 

he wanted to see me alone. I took him one side, and he 

told me a story that would make almost any man weep. 
He was in a good position, a leading business man of the 
community. He had a beautiful wife and children. He 
was ambitious to get rich fast, and in an unguarded mo- 
ment he forged; and in order to cover up that act he had 
committed other guilty acts, and he had fled. He was a 
fugitive from justice, and he said, " I am now in the tor- 
ments of hell. Here I am; away from my family. A 
reward has been offered for me in my city. Do you think 
I ought to go back?" I said, " I don't know. You had 
better go to God and ask Him about it. I would not like 



no 



MOODYS CHILD STORIES. 



to give you advice." You could hear him sob all over that 

church. He said, " T will go to my room, and I will come 

and see you to-morrow at twelve o'clock." The next day 

he came to me, and he said, "I do not belong to myself; 

I belong to the law. I have got to go and give myself up. 

I do not care for myself, but it will disgrace my family, 

but if I don't I am afraid I will lose my soul." This day 

I got a letter from him. 

I think I would like to 

read it to you. I told 

some people here of it 

to-day, and they said, 

1 ' You ought to take it to 

Charlestown, and read it 

to the convicts in the 

state prison." But I 

thought I had better 

read it before I got there. 

It may keep some man 

from getting there. Some 

one here may have just 

commenced. He may : ^' : 

to-morrow commit a o, how sad; how bitter sin is! 

forgery and bring sorrow and gloom upon his loved ones. 

It was only three days ago that I got a letter from a wife 

and mother, asking me to see her husband. He had 

committed forgery. The officers came that night and 

took him. It was a terrible shock to that wife. But let 

me read the letter. 




MOODY S CHILD STORIES. Ill 



Jefferson City, Mo., April 8, 1877. 
Mr. Moody: 

Dear Brother: When I bade you good-by in Far- 
well hall, you said, " When it is all over, write me." I 
wrote you in December. I thought then that it would 
soon be over. [Let me say right here that that letter 
which came in December drew a picture that has fol- 
lowed me all these days. He said he went to his home. 
The trial was to come off in another county. He wanted 
to see his wife, and he went to his home. He did not 
want his children to know that he was at home, because 
it might get out among the neighbors, and he wanted to 
give himself up and not be arrested. Then after his wife 
had put the children to bed, he would steal into the 
room, but he could not speak to them or kiss them. 
Fathers, was not that pretty hard? Would not that be 
pretty hard? You tell me sin is sweet! There are men 
with their eyes wide open; no, n6t with their eyes wide 
open; they must be closed when men say that sin is 
sweet. There is that man that loved his children as you 
love yours, and he did not dare to speak to them.] I 
wrote you in December, thinking all would soon be over, 
but the state was not ready to try me, and so I was let 
out upon bail till April. Yesterday my case was disposed 
of, and I received sentence for nineteen years. [O, 
how sad; how bitter sin is! May God open the eyes of 



112 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 

the blind! Christians, always pray that God may open 
the eyes of the blind. Christ came for the recovery of 
sight to the blind. I hope every sinner will get his eyes 
open and see that sin is bitter and not sweet. The time 
is coming when you have got to leave this earth.] Now 
I am in my prison cell, clothed in a convict's garb. It is 
all over with me. A long term of civil death and ab- 
sence. [Then there is a long dash. I suppose he could 
not pen it. Away from that wife and those dear chil- 
dren!] Now I have met the law. Pray for me that 1 
may be sustained with consoling and needed strength. 
Pray for the loved ones at home; my dear parents, and 

brothers and sisters, and my dear wife and children ■.-. 

[Another long dash.] And I ask that the attorney that 
was very kind to me may be prayed for, that he may be- 
come a Christian. And if not asking too much, a few 
words will be gratefully received. Address me in care of 
penitentiary in Jefferson City, Mo. I pray that your 
labors may be blessed, and when you preach warn men 
to beware of the temptation of doing evil that good may 
come of it; warn them to beware of the ambition for 
wealth. Prayerfully and tearfully yours. 



-o- 



■■■■ 




Jesus Questioning the Doctors. Luke, ii, 4I-5 1 * 




President Lincoln. 

During the war I re- 
member a young man 
not twenty, who was 
court-martialed down 
in the front and sen- 
tenced to be shot. The 
story was this: The 
young fellow had enlisted. ! He was not obliged to, but 
he went off with another young man. They were what 
we would call "chums." One night this companion was 
ordered out on picket duty, and he asked the young man 
to go for him. The next night he was ordered out him- 
self, and having been awake two nights, and not being 
used to it, fell asleep at his post, and for the offense he 
was tried and sentenced to death. It was right after the 
order issued by the president that no interference would 
be allowed in cases of this kind. This sort of thing had 
become too frequent, and it must be stopped. When the 
news reached the father and mother in Vermont, it 
nearly broke their hearts. The thought that their son 
should be shot was too great for them. They had no 
hope that he would be saved by anything they could do. 



"5 



n6 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



But they had a little daughter who had read the life of 
Abraham Lincoln, and knew how he had loved his own 
children, and she said, "If Abraham Lincoln knew how 
my father and mother loved my brother he wouldn't let 
him be shot." That little girl thought the matter over, 
and made up her mind to see the president. She went 
to the White House, and the sentinel, when he saw her 

imploring looks, 
passed her in, 
and when she 
came to the door 
and told the pri- 
v a t e secretary 
that she wanted 
to see the presi- 
dent, he could 
not refuse her. 
She came into 
the chamber and 
found Abraham 
Lincoln sur- 
rounded by his 
generals and 




THE PRESIDENT'S HEART WAS TOUCHED. 



counselors, and when he saw the little country girl„ he 
asked her what she wanted. The little maid told her 
plain, simple story; how her brother, whom her father 
and mother loved very dearly, had been sentenced to be 
shot; how they were mourning for him, and if he was to 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



117 



• lie in that way it would break their hearts. The presi- 
dent's heart was touched with compassion, and he imme- 
diately sent a dispatch canceling the sentence, and giving 
the boy a parole so that he could come home and see 
that father and mother. I just tell you this to show you 
how Abraham Lincoln's heart was moved by compassion 
for the sorrow of that father and mother, and if he 
showed so much, do you think the Son of God will not 
have compassion upon you, sinner, if you only take that 
crushed, bruised heart to Him? 



-0- 




I remember when I went to 
California just to try and get 
a few souls saved on the Pacific 
coast, I went into a school 
there, and asked, " Have you 
v/ got some one who can write a 
plain hand?" "Yes." Well, 
we got up the blackboard, and 
the lesson upon it proved to be the very text we have to- 
night, t ' Lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven. " 
And I said, " Suppose we write upon that board some of 
the earthly treasures? And we will begin with 'gold.' " 
The teacher readily put down "gold," and they all com- 
prehended it, for all had run to that country in hope of 
finding it. ' ' Well, we will put down ' houses ' next, and 



n8 Moody's child stories. 

then 'land.' Next we will put down 'fast horses." 
They all understood what fast horses were; they knew a 
good deal more about fast horses than they knew about 
the kingdom of God. Some of them, I think, actually 
made fast horses serve as gods. ' ' Next we will put 
down ' tobacco.'" The teacher seemed to shrink at this, 
"Put it down," said I; "many a man thinks more of 
tobacco than he does of God. Well, then we will put 
down 'rum.'" He objected to this; didn't like to put 
it down at all. " Down with it! Many a man will sell 
his reputation, will sell his home, his wife, his children, 
everything he 
has, for rum. 
It is the god 
of some men. 
Many here 
are ready to 
sell their 

present and their eternalwelfare for it. Put it down;" 
and down it went. " Now, " said I, "suppose we put 
down some of the heavenly treasures. Put down 'Jesus" 
to head the list, then ' heaven,' then ' river of life,' then 
'crown of glory,' and we went on until the column was 
filled, and then just drew a line and showed the heavenly 
and the earthly things in contrast. My friends, they 
could not stand comparison. If a man just does that, 
he cannot but see the superiority of the heavenly over 
the earthly treasures. Well, it turned out that the teacher 




MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



119 



was not a Christian. He had gone to California on the 
lusual hunt — gold; and when he saw the two columns 
placed side by side, the excellence of the one over the 
other was irresistible, and he was the first soul God gave 
me on the Pacific coast. He accepted Christ, and that 
man came to the station when I was coming away, and 
blessed me for coming to that place. 




When I was in Europe, Mr. Spurgeon told me a story 
of a boy who was in an orphan asylum. This little boy 
came up to Mr. Spurgeon and said, "Mr. Spurgeon, 
would you allow me to speak to you?" He said, " Cer- 
tainly; get upon my knee." The little fellow got up, and 
jaid, " Mr. Spur- 



geon, supposing 
that your mother 
was dead, and 
that your father 
was dead; and 
that you were put 
into this institu- 
tion; and that '"cause that's me." 
there were other little boys that had no father or mother, 




120 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



but that they had cousins and uncles and aunts, and that 

they brought them fruit and candy and a lot of things. 

Don't you think that you would feel bad? 'Cause that's 

me." Why, Mr. Spurgeon put his hand in his pocket, 

and gave the little fellow some money right off. The 

little fellow had pleaded his cause well. When men 

come to God and tell their story — I don't care how vile 

you are; I don't care how far down you have got; I don't 

care how far off you have wandered — if you will tell it all 

into His ear, the relief will soon come. 

o 




I can give you a little 

experience of my own 

family. Before I was 

fourteen years old the 

first thing I remember 

was the death of my 

father. He had been 

unfortunate in business, 
And Her Prodigal Son. and failed Soon after 

his death the creditors came in and took everything. My 
mother was left with a large family of children. One 
calamity after another swept over the entire household. 
Twins were added to the family, and my mother was 
taken sick. The eldest bov was fifteen years of age, and 
to him my mother looked *w a stay in her calamity, 
but all at once that boy be^'ixme a wanderer. He had 



MOODYS CHILD STORIES. 



121 



been reading some of the trashy novels, and the belief 
had seized him that he had only to go away to make a 
fortune. Away he went. I can remember how eagerly 
she used to look for tidings of that boy; how she used to 
send to the post-office to see if there was a letter from 
him, and recollect how we used to come back with the 
sad tidings, " No letter." I remember how in the even- 
ings we used to sit beside her in that New England home, 
and we would talk 
about our father, but 
the moment the name 
of that boy was men- 
tioned she would hush 
us into silence. Some 
nights when the wind ^ 
was very high, and the 
house, which was upon 
a hill, would tremble 
at every gust, the 
voice of my mother 
was raised in prayer 
for that wanderer who 
had treated her so un- "o, it is my lost son." 

kindly. I used to think she loved him more than all the 
rest of us put together, and I believe she did. On a 
Thanksgiving day — you know that is a family day in New 
England — she used to set a chair for him, thinking he 
would return home. Her family grew up, and her boys 




122 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



left home. When I got so that I could write, I sent 

letters all over the country, but could find no trace of 

him. One day while in Boston the news reached me 

that he had returned. While in that city, I remember 

how I used to look for him in every store — he had a mark 

on his face — but I never got any trace. One day while 

my mother was sitting at the door, a stranger was seen 

coming toward the house, and when he came to the 

door he stopped. My mother didn't know her boy. He 

stood there with folded arms, and great beard flowing 

down his breast, his tears trickling down his face. When 

my mother saw those tears she cried, " O it is my lost 

son," and entreated him to come in. But he stood still, 

" No, mother," he said, " I will not come in, till I hear 

first you have forgiven me." Do you believe she was 

not willing to forgive him? Do you think she was likely 

to keep him long standing there? She rushed to the 

threshold, and threw her arms around him, and breathed 

forgiveness. God will forgive you. 

o 



I remember, while in Mo- 
bile attending meetings, a 
little incident occurred which 
I will relate. It was a beau- 
tiful evening, and just before 
the meeting some neighbors 




Father's Arms. 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



123 



and myself were sitting on the front piazza enjoy- 
ing the evening. One of the neighbors put one of 
his children upon a ledge eight feet high, and put 
out his hands and told him to jump. Without the 
slightest hesitation he sprang into his father's arms. 
Another child was lifted up, and he, too, readily sprang 
into the arms of his 
father. He picked up 
another boy, larger 

than the others, and f^f^f^\^ (ZlX!^^"" iTY^V 

held out his arms, but 

he wouldn't jump. He 

cried and screamed to 

be taken down. The 

man begged the boy 

to jump, but it was of 

no use; he couldn't be 

induced to jump. The 

incident made me 

curious, and I stepped ilgjll 

up to him, and asked, HE SPRANG INTO HIS FATHERS ARMS . 

" How was it that those two little fellows jumped so 

readily into your arms, and the other boy wouldn't?" 

" Why," said the man, " those two boys are my children, 

and the other boy isn't; he don't know me." 




-o- 




There is a beautiful legend told about a 
little girl who was the first-born of a family in Egypt, 
when the destroying angel swept through that land, and 
consequently who would have been a victim on that nigbf 
if the protecting blood were not sprinkled on the door 
posts of her father's house. The order was that the first 
born should be struck 
by death all through 
Egypt. This little girl 
was sick, and she knew 
that death would take 
her, and she might be a 
victim of the order. She 
asked her father if the 
blood was sprinkled on 
the door-posts. He said 
it was, that he had or- 
dered it to be done. She 
asked him if he had 
seen it there. He said 
no, but he had no doubt 

NO BLOOD ON THE POOR, POST. 
124 




MOODY S CHILD STORIES, 



125 



that it was done. He had seen the lamb killed, and had 
told the servant to attend to it. But she was not satis- 
fied, and asked her father to go and see, and urged him 
to take her in his arms and carry her to the door to see. 
They found that the servant had neglected to put the 
blood upon the posts. There the child was exposed to 
death until they found the blood and sprinkled it on the 
posts, and then it was safe. See to it that you are safe 
in Christ. 

o 




At one time my sister had trouble 
with her little boy, and the father 
said, " Why, Sammy, you must go 
now and ask your mother's forgive- 
ness." The little fellow said he 
wouldn't. The father says, ' ' You 
must. If you don't go and ask your 
mother's forgiveness, I shall have to 
undress you and put you to bed." He was a bright, ner- 
vous little fellow, never still a moment, and the father 
thought he would have such a dread of being undressed 
and put to bed. But the little fellow wouldn't, so they 
undressed him, and put him to bed. The father went to 
his business, and when he came home at noon he said to 
his wife, "Has Sammy asked your forgiveness?" "No," 
she said; " he hasn't." So the father went to him, and 



126 



MOODYS CHILD STORIES. 



said, " Why, Sammy, why don't you ask your mother's 

forgiveness?" The little fellow shook his head, " Won't 

do it." "But, Sammy, you have got to." " Couldn't." 

The father went down to his office, and stayed all the 

afternoon, and when he came home he asked his wife, 

"Has Sammy asked your forgiveness?" "No; I took 

something up to him and tried to have him eat, but he 

wouldn't." So the father went up to see him, and said, 

"Now, Sammy, just ask your mother's forgiveness, and 

you may be dressed and 

come down to supper with <CC~7^~ )""T) f 

us." "Couldn't doit." The Jl: 

father coaxed, but the little 

fellow "couldn't do it.'' 

That was all they could get 

out of him. You know very 

well he could, but he didn't 

want to. Now, the hardest 

thing a man has to do is to 

become a Christian, and it 

is the easiest. That may 

seem a contradiction, but it 

isn't. The hard point is because he don't want to. 

The hardest thing for a man to do is to give up his 
will. That night they retired, and they thought surelj* 
early in the morning he will be ready to ask his mother'* 
forgiveness. The father went to him — that was Frida) 
morning — to see if he was ready to ask his mother's for 




i've said it, i've said it." 



Moody's child stories. 127 

giveness, but he " couldn't." The father and mother 
felt so bad about it they couldn't eat; they thought it was 
to darken their whole life. Perhaps that boy thought 
that father and mother didn't love him. Just what many 
sinners think because God won't let them have their own 
way. The father went to his business, and when he 
came home he said to his wife, " Has Sammy asked your 
forgiveness?" "No." So he went to the little fellow, 
and said, " Now, Sammy, are you not going to ask your 
mother's forgiveness?" "Can't," and that was all they 
could get out of him. The father couldn't eat any dinner; 
it was like death in the house. It seemed as if the boy 
was going to conquer his father and mother. Instead of 
his little will being broken, it looked very much as if he 
was going to break theirs. Late Friday afternoon, 
"Mother, mother, forgive," says Sammy, "me." And 
the little fellow said "me," and he sprang to his feet, 
and said, "I have said it, I have said it. Now, dress 
me, and take me down to see father. He will be so glad 
to know I have said it." And she took him down, and 
when the little fellow came in, he said, ' ' I've said it, 
I've said it." 

O my friends, it is so easy to say, ' ' I will arise and 
go to my God." It is the most reasonable thing you can 
do. Isn't it an unreasonable thing to hold out? Come 
right to God just this very hour. ' ' Believe on the Lord 
Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." 




When I was 
a young boy — 
before I was a 

Christian — I was in a field one day with a man who was 

hoeing. He was weeping, and he told me a strange story, 

which I have never forgotten. When he left home his 

mother gave him this text, " Seek first the kingdom of 

God." But he paid no heed to it. He said when he got 

settled in life, and his ambition to get money was gratified. 

it would be time enough then to seek the kingdom ol 

God. He went Jp 5 ^!^* Ar^f 

from one village to 

another, and got 

nothing to do . 

When Sunday came 

he went into a vil- 
lage church, and 

what was his great 

surprise to hear the 

minister give out 

the text, " Seek first 

the kingdom of 

God." He said the 

text went down to 

the bottom of his 

heart. He thought "seek first the kingdom of god.' 

128 





Jesus Blessing Childr-^- -lark, x, 13-16. 



Moody's child stories. 131 

hat it was but his mother's prayer following him, and 
"hat some one must have written to that minister about 
alim. He felt very uncomfortable, and when the meeting 
was over he could not get that sermon out of his mind. 
He went away from that town, and at the end of a week 
went into another church, and he heard the minister give 
out the same text, " Seek first the kingdom of God." He 
felt sure this time that it was the prayers of his mother? 
but he said calmly and deliberately, " No; I will first get 
wealthy." He said he went on, and did not go into a 
church for a few months, but the first place of worship he 
went into he heard a third minister preaching a sermon 
from the same text. He tried to drown, to stifle his feel- 
ings; tried to get the sermon out of his mind, and resolved 
that he would keep away from church altogether, and for 
a few years did keep out of God's house. " My mother 
died," he said, "and the text kept coming up in my 
mind, and I said I will try and become a Christian." The 
J:ears rolled down his cheeks as he said, "I could not; 
no sermon ever touches me; my heart is as hard as that 
stone," pointing to one in the field. I couldn't under- 
stand what it was all about; it was fresh to me then. I 
went to Boston and got converted, and the first thought 
that came to me was about this man. When I got back, 

I asked my mother, " Is Mr. L living in such a 

place?" " Didn't I write to you about him?" she asked. 
"They have taken him to an insane asylum, and to 
every one who goes there, he points with his finger up 



132 



MOODYS CHILD STORIES. 



there, and tells him to li seek first the kingdom of God." 
There was that man with his eyes dull with the loss of 
reason, but the text had sunk into his soul; it had burned 
down deep. O, may the Spirit of God burn the text into 
your hearts to-night! When I got home again my mother 
told me he was in her house, and I went to see him. I 
found him in a rocking chair, with that vacant, idiotic 
look upon him. Whenever he saw me he pointed at me, 
and said, " Young man, seek first the kingdom of God." 
Reason was gone, but the text was there. Last month 
when I was laying my brother down in his grave, I could 
not help thinking of that poor man who was lying so 
near him, and wishing that the prayer of his mother had 
been heard, and that he had found the kingdom of God. 



-o- 




I suppose Isaiah 
thought he was as good 
as most men in his 
day, and perhaps he 
was a good deal better 
than most men, but 
when he saw the Lord, he cried, « ' Woe is me, for I am 
undone; because I am a man of unclean lips." When he 
saw the Lord, he saw his own deformity, and he fell in 
the dust before the Lord. And that is the proper place 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



133 



for a sinner. As I have said before, until men realize 

their uncleanness they talk of their own righteousness, 

bat the moment they catch a sight of Him their mouth 

is stopped. If we hear a man talking about himself, we 

may be sure that he has not seen God. Look at that 

man Daniel. Not a thing can be found against him, but 

see when he came within sight of God. He found that 

his comeliness turned to corruption. And look at Job. 

One would have thought that he was all right. He was 

good to the poor, liberal to all charities; not a better 

man within a 

thousand 

miles. If 

they wanted 

to get a thou- 1.- 

sand dollars 

to endow a 

university, a 

thousand 

dollars to 

build asyn- 

' WOE IS ME, FOR I AM UNDONE; BECAUSE I AM A MAN 
agogue, if OF UNCLEAN LIPS." 

they wanted a thousand dollars for any charitable ob- 
ject, why, he was the man. Why, you would have liked 
to get him into your Presbyterian, or Methodist, or Bap- 
tist churches; if you wanted a chairman of a benevolent 
society you couldn't have found a better man. Yet look 
at him when God came near him. It is altogether dif- 




134 Moody's child stories. 

ferent when He comes within our sight. It is one thing 

to hear Him, and another thing to see Him. He had 

heard Him with his ears, but now He saw Him with his 

eyes, and then he was silent. You couldn't get another 

word from him. Before he saw Him, he could argue and 

talk about Him to his friends, could argue as well as they 

could; but the moment Job saw Him he was silent. 

When He said, " Gird up thy loins like a man," from 

that time he put no more questions to Him. He had got 

a lesson. No man can come into His kingdom till he 

knows he is vile, till he sees Him. He must come down 

to that. That is God's alphabet. 

o 

I remember hearing of a 
Sabbath-school teacher who 
had led every one of her chil- 
dren to Christ. She was a 
faithful teacher. Then she 
tried to get her children to go 
out and bring other children 
into the school. One day one 
of them came and said she 
had been trying to get the 
children of a family to come to the school, but the father 
was an infidel, and he wouldn't allow it. " What is an 
infidel?" asked the child. She had never heard of an in- 
fidel before. The teacher went on to tell her what an 
infidel man was, and she was perfectly shocked. A few 




MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



135 



mornings after, the girl happened to be going past the 
postomce on her way to school, and she saw the infidel 
father coming out. She went up to him, and said, 
-'Why don't you love Jesus?" If it had been a man 
who had said that to him, probably he would have 
knocked him down. He looked at her and walked on. 
A second time she put the question, " Why don't you 
love Jesus?" He put out his hand to put her gently away 
from him, when, on 



PQi 

FFICE 




looking down, he saw her (I 

in tears. ' ' Please, sir, 

tell rne why you don't 

love Jesus?" He pushed 

her aside, and away he 

went. When he got to 

his office he couldn't get 

this question out of his 

mind. All the letters 

seemed to read, "Why 

don't you love Jesus r" 

All men in his place of 

business seemed to say, 

4 'Why don't you love 

Jesus?" When he tried 

to write, his pen seemed 

to shape the words, " Why don't you love Jesus?" He 

couldn't rest, and on the street he went to mingle with 

the business men, but he seemed to hear a voice con- 



' PLEASE, SIR, TELL ME WHY YOU DON'T 
LOVE JESUS." 



136 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



tinually asking him, " Why don't you love Jesus?" He 
thought when night came and he got home with his 
family, he would forget it; but he couldn't. He com- 
plained that he wasn't well, and went to bed. But when 
he laid his head on the pillow, that voice kept whisper- 
ing, "Why don't you love Jesus?" He couldn't sleep. 
By-and-by, about midnight, he got up, and said, " I will 
get a Bible, and find where Christ contradicts Himself, 
and then I'll have a reason," and he turned to the book 
of John. My friends, if you want a reason for not loving 
Christ, don't turn to John. He knew Him too long. I 
don't believe a man can read the gospel of John without 
being turned to Christ. Well, he read through, and 
found no reason why he shouldn't love Him, but he found 
many reasons why he should. He read this book, and 
before morning he was on his knees, and that question 
put by that little child led to his conversion. 




The hardest thing, I will 
admit, ever a man had to 
do is to become a Chris- 
tian, and yet it is the 
easiest. This seems to 
many to be a paradox, but 
I will repeat it; it is the 
most difficult thing to be- 
come a Christian, and yet it is the easiest. I have a 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



137 



little nephew in Chicago. When he was three or four 
years of age, he threw that Bible on the floor. I think a 
good deal of that Bible, and I didn't like to see this. His 
mother said to him, "Go, pick up your uncle's Bible 
from the floor." " I won't," he replied. " Go and pick 
that Bible up directly." " I won't." " What did you 
say? " asked his mother. She thought he didn't under- 
stand. But he understood well enough, and had made 
up his mind that 
he wouldn't. She 
told the boy she 
would have to pun- 
ish him if he didn't, 
and then he said 
he couldn't, and 
by-and-by he said 
he didn't want to. 
And that is the 
way with the peo- 
ple in coming to 
Christ. At first - 
they say they g 
won't, then they 
can't, and then 
they don't want to. The mother insisted upon the boy 
picking up the Bible, and he got down and put his arms 
around it and pretended he couldn't lift it. He was a great, 
healthy boy, and he could have picked it up easily 




AND THE CHILD JUST PICKED IT UP. 



138 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



enough. I was very anxious to see the fight carried on, 
because she was a young mother, and if she didn't break 
that boy's will, he was going to break her heart by-and- 
by. So she told him again, if he didn't pick it up, .she 
would punish him, and the child just picked it up. It 
was very easy to do it when he made up his mind. So 
it is perfectly easy for men to accept the gospel. The 
trouble is, they don't want to give up their will. If you 
want to be saved, you must just accept that gospel; that 
Christ is your Savior; that He is your redeemer, and that 
He has rescued you from the curse of the law. Just say, 
" Lord Jesus Christ, I trust you from this hour to save 
me "; and the moment you take that stand, He will put 
His loving arms around you and wrap about you the robe 
of righteousness. 



-o- 



^->? : 



; -^>^ 



IpLINCL 



#gW 



Little Johnny and 
his sister were one 
day going through a 
long, narrow tunnel. 
The railroad company 
had built small clefts 
here and there through the tunnel, so that if any one got 
caught in the tunnel when the train was passing, they 
could save themselves. After this little boy and girl had 
gone some distance in the tunnel, they heard a train com- 
ing. They were frightened at first, but the sister ju*t 




Moody's child stories. 139 

put her little brother in one cleft, and she hurried and 
hid in another. The train came thundering along, and 
as it passed, the sister cried out, "Johnny, cling close to 

the rock! Johnny, 
cling close to the 
rock!" and they were 
safe. The " Rock 
of Ages " may be 
beaten by the storms 
and waves of adver- 
sity, but "cling close 
to the rock," Chris- 
tians, and all will be 
well. The waves don't touch the Christian; he is 
sheltered by the Rock "that is higher than I," by the 
One who is the strong arm, and the Savior who is mighty 

and willing to save. 

o 

I remember when I first 
began to work for the Lord, 
fifteen or sixteen years ago, 
there was a Boston business 
man who was converted there 
and stayed three months, 
and when leaving he said to 
±iis ^niiaren. me ^^ ^gj-g was a man living 

on such a street in whom he was very much interested, 




140 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



and whose boy was in the high school, and he had said 
that he had two brothers and a little sister who didn't go 
anywhere to Sabbath-school, because their parents would 
not let them. This gentleman said, " I wish you would 
go round and see them." Well, I went, and I found that 
the parents lived in a drinking saloon, and that the fathe r 
kept the bar. I stepped up to him and told him what I 
wanted, and he said he would rather have his sons be- 
come drunkards, and his daughter a harlot, than have 
them go to our 
schools. I 
thought that it 
looked pretty 
dark, and that 
he was pretty 
bitter to me, but 
I went a second 
time, thinking 
that I might 
catch him in a 
better humor. 
He ordered me 
out again. I 
went a third 
time and found him in better humor. He said, " Ycu 
are talking too much about the Bible. Well, I will teil 
you what I will do; if you teach them something reason- 
able, like ' Paine's Age of Reason,' they may go." Then 




MR. MOODY, YOU CAN HAVE MY CHILDREN GO TO 
YOUR SUNDAY-SCHOOL." 



Moody's child stories. 141 

I talked further to him, and finally he said, " If you will 
read Paine's book, I will read the New Testament." 
Well, to get hold of him I promised, and he got the best 
of the bargain. We exchanged books, and that gave 
me a chance to call again and talk with that family. One 
day he said, ''Young man, you have talked so much 
about church, now you can have a church down here." 
"What do you mean?" "Why, I will invite some 
friends, and you can come down here and preach to 
them; not that I believe a word you say, but I do it to 
see if it will do us chaps any good." "Very well," I 
said; "now let us have it distinctly understood that we 
are to have a certain definite time." He told me to come 
at 11 o'clock, saying, "I want you to understand that 
you are not to do all the preaching." " How is that?" 
" I shall want to talk some, and also my friends." I 
said, " Supposing we have it understood that you are to 
have forty minutes and I fifteen, is that fair?" Well, he 
thought it was fair. He was to have the first forty and 
I the last fifteen minutes. I went down, and, behold, the 
saloon-keeper wasn't there. [ thought perhaps he had 
backed out, but I found that the reason was that he had . 
found that his saloon was not large enough to hold all his 
friends, and he had gone to a neighbor's, whither I went 
and found two rooms filled. There were atheists, infidels, 
and scoffers there. I had taken a little boy with me, 
thinking he might aid me. The moment I got in, they 
plied me with all sorts of questions, but I said I hadn't 



142 Moody's child stories. 

come to hold any discussion; that they had been discuss- 
ing for years and had reached no conclusion. They 
took up the forty-five minutes of time talking, and the 
result was there was no two who could agree. Then came 
my turn. I said, "We always open our meetings with 
prayer; let us pray." I prayed and thought perhaps 
some one else would pray before I got through. After I 
finished the little boy prayed. I wish you could have 
heard him. He prayed to God to have mercy upon those 
men who were talking so against His beloved Son. Hts 
voice sounded more like an angel's than a human void;. 
After we got up, I was going to speak, but there was not 
a dry eye in the assembly. One after another went out, 
and the old man I had been after for months, and some- 
times it had looked pretty dark, came, and putting his 
hands on my shoulder, with tears streaming down his 
face, said, " Mr. Moody, you can have my children go to 
your Sunday-school." The next Sunday they came, and 
after a few months the oldest boy, a promising young' 
man then in the high school, came upon the platform, 
and with his chin quivering and the tears in his eyes, 
said, " I wish to ask these people to pray forme; I want 
to become a Christian." God heard and answered our 
prayers for him. In all my acquaintances I don't know 
of a man whom it seemed more hopeless to reach. I be- 
lieve if we lay ourselves out for the work, there is not a 
man in this city but can be reached and saved. I don't 
care who he is; if we go in the name of our Master, and 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



143 



persevere until we succeed, it will not be long before 
Christ will bless us, no matter how hard their heart is. 
" We shall reap if we faint not." I didn't have a warmer 
friend in Chicago; he was true to me. 

o 




John Wanamaker, superintendent of probably one of 
the largest Sunday-schools in the world, had a theory 
that he would never put a boy out of his school for bad 
conduct. He argued, if a boy misbehaved himself, it was 
through bad training at home, and that if he put him out 
of the school, no one would take care of him. Well, this 
theory was put to the test one day. A teacher came 
to him, and said, " I've got a boy in my class that mast 
be taken out; he breaks the rules continually, he swears 
and uses obscene language, and I cannot do anything 
with him." Mr. Wanamaker did not care about put- 
ting the boy out, so he sent the teacher back to his class. 
But he came again, and said that unless the boy was 
taken from his class, he must leave it. Well, he left, 
and a second teacher was appointed. The second teacher 
came with the same story, and met with the same reply 
from Mr. Wanamaker. And he resigned. A third 
teacher was appointed, and he came with the same story 
as the others. Mr. Wanamaker then thought he would 



144 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



be compelled to turn the boy out at last. One day a few 

teachers were standing about, and Mr. Wanamaker 

said, " I will bring this boy up and read his name out in 

the school, and publicly excommunicate him." Well, a 

young lady came up, and said to him, " I am not doing 

what I might for Christ; let me have the boy; I will try 

and save him." But Mr. Wanamaker said, " If these 

young men cannot do it, you will not. " But she begged 

to have him, and Mr. Wanamaker consented. 

She was a wealthy young lady, surrounded with all the 

luxuries of life. The boy went to her class, and for 

several Sundays he behaved himself and broke no rule. 

But one Sunday 

he broke one, and, 

in reply to some- 
thing she said, spit 

in her face. She 
took out her 
pocket -handker- 
chief and wiped 
her face, but she 
said nothing. Well — , 

9 

she thought upon 
a plan, and she said to him, " John" — we will call him 
John — ''John, come home with me." "No," says he; 
11 I won't; I won't be seen on the streets with you." She 
was fearful of losing him altogether if he went out of the 
school that day, and she said, "Will you let me walk 





Daniel in the Lions' Den. Daniel, vii 



Moody's child stories. 147 

home with you?" "No, I won't," said he; " I won't be 
seen on the street with you." Then she thought. upon 
another plan. She thought on the " Old Curiosity Shop," 
and she said, " I won't be at home to-morrow or Tues- 
day, but if you will come round to the front door on 
Wednesday morning there will be a little bundle for you." 
" I don't want it; you may keep your own bundle." She 
went home, but made the bundle up. She thought that 
curiosity might make him come. 

Wednesday morning arrived, and he had got over his 
mad fit, and thought he would just like to see what was- 
in that bundle. The little fellow knocked at the door, 
which was opened, and he told his story. She said, 
"Yes, here is the bundle." The boy opened it and found 
a vest, and a coat and other clothing, and a little note 
written by the young lady, which read something like 
this: 

"Dear Johnnie: Ever since you have been in my 
class I have prayed for you every morning and evening, 
that you might be a good boy, and I want you to stop in 
my class. Do not leave me." 

The next morning, before she was up, the servant 
came to her and said there was a little boy below who 
wished to see her. She dressed hastily, and went down 
stairs, and found Johnnie on the sofa weeping. She put 
her arms around his neck, and he said to her, " My dear 
teacher, I have not had any peace since I got this note 
from you. I want you to forgive me." " Won't you let 



148 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



me pray for you to come to Jesus?" replied the teacher; 

and she went down on her knees and prayed. And now 

Mr. Wanamaker says that boy is the best boy in his 

Sunday-school. And so it was love that won that boy's 

heart. 

o 



OVED ONE 
e IPVEK 




There are a 
great many 
things to sepa- 
rate a man from 
his wife, or one 
friend from an- 
other; but the 
mother's love is 
generally un- 
ch a nge able. 
Her son maybe 
a murderer; 
public opinion 
may be against 
him; the daily 
journals may write him down; his friends may forsake 
him, but that mother will take her stand in the court be- 
side her boy. The jury may give a verdict against him, 
and he may be sentenced to death; but you will find that 
mother going down to his cell, and she will love him 
through it all. She don't care for public opinion; she 



LOVE FOR HER SON WILL REMAIN. 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



149 



don't heed the sentiments of the press. Everything may 
be gone from her, but love for her son will remain. And 
when that son has been executed, and life has left his 
body, she will go down to his grave and water it with 
tears, and will cherish the memory of that boy as long 
as she lives. But all this is not to be compared with the 
love of God. God's love is not confined to one man; it 
is universal and unfailing and unchangeable. 

- — - — - — o 




While down at 
a convention in 
Illinois an old man 
got past seventy 
years; he said he 
remembered but 
one thing about 
his father, and 
that one thing followed him all through life. He could 
not remember his death, he had no recollection of his 
funeral, but he recollected his father, one winter night, 
taking a little chip, and with his pocket knife whittling 
out a little cross, and told how God in His infinite love 
sent His Son down here to redeem us; how He had died 
on the cross for us. The story of the cross followed him 
through life; and I tell you if you teach these children 
truths, they will follow them through life. 




^nty 1 In Detroit, at an international convention of 

I ^JfcJKr ^ le Young Men's Christian association, Judge 
Olds was present as a delegate from Colum- 
bus. One evening he was telling about the 
mighty power Christians summon to their aid 
in the petition "for Christ's sake," "in 
Jesus' name," and he told a story that made a 
great impression on me. When the war came 
on, he said, his only son left for the army, 
and he became suddenly interested in soldiers. 
Every soldier that passed by brought his son to remem- 
brance; he could see his son in him. He went to work 
for soldiers. 
When a sick 
soldier came 
there to Co- 
lumbus one 
day, so weak 
h e couldn't . 

walk, the | 

I 
judge took | 

, . I 

him in a car- I 

riage, and got \ 

him into the 

soldier's 

home. Soon 




RnBU 

THE FATHER SAW IT WAS HIS OWN SON'S WRITING. 



I50 



Moody's child stories. 151 

he became president of the soldier's home in Columbus, 
and used to go down every day and spend hours 
in looking after those soldiers, and seeing that they 
had every comfort. He spent on them a great deal of 
time and a great deal of money. One day he said to his 
wife, " I'm giving too much time to these soldiers. I've 
got to stop it. There's an important case coming on in 
court, and I've got to attend to my own business." He 
said he went down to the office that morning, resolved in 
future to let the soldiers alone. He went to his desk, 
and then to writing. Pretty soon the door opened, and 
he saw a soldier hobble slowly in. He started at sight 
of him. The man was fumbling at something in his 
breast, and pretty soon he got out an old soiled paper. 
The father saw it was his own son's writing. 

"Dear Father: This young man belongs to my 
company. He has lost his leg and his health in defense 
of his country, and he is going home to his mother to die. 
Ii' he calls on you, treat him kindly. 

" For Charlie's Sake." 

"For Charlie's sake." The moment he saw that, a 
pang went to his heart. He got up for a carriage, lifted 
the maimed soldier, drove home, put him into Charlie's 
room, sent for the family physician, kept him in the 
family and treated him like his own son. When the 
young soldier got well enough to go to the train to go 
home to his mother, he took him to the railway station, 
put him in the nicest, most comfortable place in the car- 



152 Moody's child stories. 

riage, and sent him on his way home to his mother. " I 
did it," said the old judge, " for Charlie's sake." Now, 
whatsoever you do, my friends, do it for the Lord Jesus' 
sake. Do and ask everything in His name, in the name 
of Him " who loved us and gave Himself for us." 

o 



One day as a young lady 
was walking up the street, 
she saw a little boy run- 
ning out of a shoemaker's 
shop, and behind him was 
the old shoemaker chasing 
him with a wooden last in his hand. He had not run far 
until the last was thrown at him, and he was struck in 
the back. The boy stopped and began to cry. The 
Spirit of the Lord touched that young lady's heart, and 
she went to where he was. She stepped up to him, and 
asked him if he was hurt. He told her it was none of 
her business. She went to work then to win that boy's 
confidence. She asked him if he went to school. He 
said, "No." "Well, why don't you go to school?" 
" Don't want to." She asked him if he would not like to 
go to Sunday-school. " If you will come," she said, " I 
will tell you beautiful stories and read nice books." She 
coaxed and pleaded with him, and at last said that if he 
would consent to go, she would meet him on the corner 




MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



i S3 



of a street which they should agree upon. He at last 
consented, and the next Sunday, true to his promise, he 
waited for her at the place designated. She took him by 
the hand and led him into the Sabbath-school. " Can 
you give me a place to teach this little. boy ? r? she asked of 
the superintendent. 

He looked at the boy, but they didn't have any such 
looking little ones in the school. A place was found, 




THE LAST WAS THROWN AT HIM AND HE WAS STRUCK IN THE BACK. 

however, and she sat down in the corner and tried to win 
that soul for Christ. Many would look upon that with 
contempt, but she had got something to do for the 
Master. The little boy had never heard anybody sing so 
sweetly before. When he went home he was asked where 
he had been. "Been among the angels," he told his 



154 Moody's child stories. 

mother. He said he had been to the Protestant Sabbath- 
school, but his father and mother told him he must not 
go there any more, or he would get a flogging. The next 
Sunday he went, and when he came home, he got the 
promised flogging. He went the second time and got a 
flogging, and also a third time with the same result. At 
last he said to his father, " I wish you would flog me be- 
fore I go, and then I won't have to think of it when I am 
there." The father said, "If you go to that Sabbath- 
school again, I will kill you." It was the father's custom 
to send his son out on the street to sell articles to the 
passers-by, and he told the boy that he might have the 
profits of what he sold on Saturday. The little fellow 
hastened to the young lady's house, and said to her, 
" Father said that he would give me every Saturday to 
myself, and if you will just teach me, then I will come to 
your house every Saturday afternoon." I wonder how 
many young ladies there are that would give up their 
Saturday afternoons just to lead one boy into the king- 
dom of God. Every Saturday afternoon that little boy 
was there at her house, and she tried to tell him the way 
to Christ. She labored with him, and at last the light 
of God's spirit broke upon his heart. 

One day, while he was selling his wares at the railroad 
station, a train of cars approached unnoticed, and passed 
over both his legs. A physician was summoned, and the 
first thing after he arrived the little sufferer looked up 
into his face, and said, " Doctor, will I live to get home?" 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



155 



"No, " said the doctor; "you are dying." "Will you 
tell my mother and father that I died a Christian?" They 
bore home the boy's corpse, and with it the last message 
that he died a Christian. O, what a noble work was that 
young lady's in saving that little wanderer! How pre- 
cious the remembrance to her! When she goes to 
heaven, she will not be a stranger there. He will take 
her by the hand and lead her to the throne of Christ. 
She did the work cheerfully. O, may God teach us what 
our work is, that we may do it for His glory! 

o 




I turn 
man." 



You know I 
have an idea 
that the Bible is 
like an album. I 
go into a man's 
house, and 
while waiting 
for him, I take 
up an album 
and open it. I 
look at a pic- 
ture. "Why, 
:: that looks like a 
man I know." 
over and look at another. "Well, I know that 
By-and-by I come upon another. "Why, that 



156 Moody's child stories. 

man looks like my brother." I am getting pretty near 
home. I keep turning over the leaves. "Well, I 
declare, there is a man who lives in the street I do; why, 
he is my next-door neighbor." And then 1 come upon 
another, and I see myself. My friends, if you read your 
Bibles, you will find your own pictures there. It will 
just describe you. Now, it may be there is some Phari- 
see here to-night; if there is, let him turn to the third 
chapter of John, and see what Christ said to that Phari- 
see. " Except a man be born again, he cannot enter the 
kingdom of God." Nicodemus, no doubt, was one of 
the fairest specimens of a man in Jerusalem in those days, 
yet he had «to be .born again, else he couldn't see the 
kingdom of God. But you may say, ' ' I am not a Phari- 
see; I am a poor, miserable sinner, too bad to come to 
Him." Well, turn to the woman of Samaria and see 
what He said to her. See what a difference there was 
between that publican and that Pharisee. There was as 
great a distance between them as between the sun and 
the moon. One was in the very highest station, and the 
other occupied the very worst One had only himself 
and his sins to bring to God, the other was trying to 
bring in his position and his aristocracy. I tell you, when 
a man gets a true sight of himself, all his position and 
station and excellences drop. See this prayer, "I thark 
God," "I am not," "I fast," "I give," "I possess." 
Why, if he had delivered a long prayer, and it had been 
put into the hands of printers, they would have to send 



Moody's child stories. 157 

out for some "I's." " I thank God." "I," "I," " I." 
When a man prays, not with himself, but to God, he 
does not exalt himself; he don't pass a eulogy upon him- 
self. He falls flat down in dust before God. In that 
prayer you don't find him thanking God for what He had 
done for him. It was a heathen, prayerless prayer, 
merely a form. I hope the day will come when formal 
prayers will be a thing of the past. I think the reason 
why we cannot get more people out to the meetings is 
because we have too many formal prayers in the churches. 
These formal Christians get up like this Pharisee, and 
thank God they are not like other men; but when a man 
gets a look at himself, he prays with the spirit of the 
publican. 

I once heard of a father who 
had a prodigal boy, and the boy 
had sent his mother down to the 
grave with a broken heart. One 
evening the boy started out as 
usual to spend the night in 
drinking and gambling, and his 
old father, as he was leaving, 
said, "My son, I want to ask a favor of you to-night. 
You have not spent an evening with me since your 
mother died. Now, won't you gratify your old father by 
staying at home with him?" " No," said the young man, 




i 5 8 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES, 



"it is lonely here, and there is nothing to interest me, 
and I am going out." And the old man prayed and wept, 
and at last said, 4< My boy, you are just killing me as you 
have killed your mother. These hairs are growing white, 
and you are sending me, too, to the grave." Still the boy 
would not stay, and the old man said, ' ' If you are de- 




' IF YOU GO OUT YOU MUST GO OVER THIS BODY. 

termined to go to ruin, you must go over this old body 
to-night. I cannot resist you. You are stronger than I, 
but if you go out, you must go over this body." And he 
laid himself down before the door, and that son walked 
over the form of his father; trampled the love of his 
father under foot, and went out. 



-o- 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



159 



Doctor Andrew Bonar told me how, 
<gf' in the highlands of Scotland, often 
^ sheep would wander off into the rocks 
I and get into places that they couldn't 
get out of. The grass on these mount- 
ains is very sweet, and the sheep like 
it, and they will jump down ten or 
twelve feet, and then they can't jump 
back again, and the shepherd hears 
them bleating in distress. They may 
be there for days, until they have eaten 
all the grass, and he will wait until 
they are so faint they cannot stand, and 
then they put a rope around him, and 
he will go over there and pull that sheep up out of the 
j aws of death. ' ' Why don't they go down there when the 

: sheep first 

gets there? 

I asked. "Ah!" 

he said, " they 

are so very foolish 

they would dash right 

over the precipice 

and be killed if they 

did!" And that is the 





THE HIGHLAND SHEEP. 



i6o 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



way with men; they won't go back to God till they have 
no friends and have lost everything. If you are a wan- 
derer I come to tell you that the Good Shepherd will 
bring you back the moment you have given up trying to 
save yourself, and are willing to let Him save you His 
own way. 




I remember, 
when a boy, I 
used to go to a 
certain school in 
New England, where we had a quick-tempered master, 
who always kept a rattan. It was, 4 ' If you don't do 
this, and don't do that, I'll punish you." I remember 
many a time of this rattan being laid upon my back. I 
think I can almost feel it now. He used to rule that 
school by the law. But after a while there was some- 
body who began to get up a movement in favor of con- 
trolling the school by love. A great many said, " You 
can never do that with those unruly boys," but after 
some talk it was at last decided to try it. I remember 
how we thought of the good time we would have that 
winter when the rattan would be out of the school. We 
thought we would then have all the fun we wanted. I 
remember who the teacher was; it was a lady, and she 




The Prodical Son. Luke, xv, 11-32. 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



163 



opened the school with prayer. We hadn't seen it done 
before, and we were impressed, especially when she 
prayed that she might have grace and strength to rule 
the school with love. Well, the school went on for 
several weeks, and we saw no rattan, but at last the rules 
were broken, and I think I 
was the first boy to break 
them. She told me to 
wait till after school, and 
then she would see me. I 
thought the rattan was 
coming out sure, and 
stretched myself up in war- 
like attitude. After school, 
however, I didn't see the 
rattan, but she sat down love better than the rattan. 

by me and told me how she loved me, and how she had 
prayed to be able to rule that school by love, and con- 
cluded by saying, ' ' I want to ask you one favor — that is, 
if you love me, try and be a good boy"; and I never gave 
her trouble again. She just put me under grace. And 
that is what the Lord does. God is love, and he wants 
us all to love Him. 




-0- 




I heard some 
time ago of a 
little book upon a 
passage of Scrip- 
ture, I didn't 
know there was 
such a passage; 
which occurred 
in the story of 
David and Me- 
phiboseth. You 
know, one day 
Jonathan and 
"are any of saul's house alive?" David were to- 

gether, and Jonathan said, " David, I want you to make 
a vow." I suppose it had been revealed to Jonathan 
that he was to take his place. Instead of his heart being 
filled with jealousy, he loved him as a brother. " Now, 
I want you to make a vow that when you get my father's 
throne, if any of my father's house are alive, you will 



164 



Moody's child stories. 165 

show them kindness." "Why, yes, Jonathan," replies 
David; " I will. I would do it for your sake alone.' 
Well, time went on. You know how Saul persecuted 
David, and drove him into the cave of Adullam, and if 
he could have caught him, you know how he would have 
slain him. News came to him that the Israelites were 
routed, and that Saul and Jonathan were slain, and David 
came up to Hebron, and reigned for seven and a half 
years, and came after this up to Jerusalem. I can see 
him in his palace in the height of his power, and the 
recollection of the old vow he made to Jonathan suddenly 
comes upon him. His conscience tells him he has made 
a vow to his old friend Jonathan which he has not kept. 
I can see him order in one of his servants, "Do you 
know if there are any of Saul's house alive?" " Well, I 
don't know, but there is an old servant of Saul's, Ziba." 
David orders him in, and asks, "Are any of Saul's house 
alive, because if there are I want to show kindness -to 
them." I can imagine the expression of his face. The 
idea of David showing kindness to any of Saul's house; 
to Saul, who wanted to slay him, and who persecuted 
him. " Well, yes," the servant answers; "there is a son 
of Jonathan living." "What!" he cries; " a son of my 
old friend Jonathan; where is he?" " He was at Lo- 
debar the last I heard of him." Now, you may have 
been a great traveler, and yet you have never heard of 
Lo-debar. You may have been all around the world, and 
still you have not heard of Lo-debar. You may work in 



1 66 * Moody's child stories. 

the postoffice, and you have never heard of Lo-debar; 
never saw a letter directed to that place. Still, that is the 
place where every one of Adam's sons has been. Every 
one has been in Lo-debar. Every backslider is there. 
When David heard where he was, he sent down to bring 
up Jonathan's son, Mephisobetri. See that chariot 
sweeping through the town. * ■ Why, the king's chariot 
is here," the people say; "what does it mean?" We 
are told that this poor prince was lame, and I can see 
the poor, lame prince as he comes out to meet the ser- 
vant. "What is it?" he inquires. "King David has 
sent for you," the servant replies. I can see the prince 
trembling from head to foot when he hears this. He 
thinks King David wants to slay him; he thinks he is 
just going to cut off his head. That's the way with sin- 
ners. They think that God stands behind them with a 
double-whetted sword ready to annihilate them. The 
servant says, ' ' I want you to come down and see the 
king." "But," replies the prince, "I tell you that 
means death to me." Just as a good many sinners 
think. "But," continues the servant, "he has 
sent me, and wants you to come;" and he gets him into 
the carriage and onto the highway, through the streets 
and unto the palace of the king. The king looks upon 
him, and sees upon his brow the image of Jonathan, and 
says to Mephisobeth, " I will show thee kindness for thy 
father's sake, and I will restore unto you all of Saul's 
possessions, and you shall sit at the king's table." He 



Moody's child stories. 167 

restores to the lame prince the inheritance he lost, and 
then gives him a place at the king's table. That is the 
gospel. God wants you to come up from Lo-debar to 
Jerusalem, and take your inheritance. The moment you 
come from your Lo-debar to the city of peace, that mo- 
ment you will learn the glad tidings. 



— o- 




I was in an infirmary not 
long since, and a mother 
brought a little child in. She 
said, ' ' Doctor, my little child's 
eyes have not been opened for 
several days, and I would just 
like you to do something for 
them." The doctor got some 
ointment and put it first on one 
j§.i and then on the other, and 
if just pulled them open. "Your 
child is blind," said the doctor; 
"perfectly blind; it will never see again." At first the 
mother couldn't take it in, but after a little she cast an 
appealing look upon that physician, and in a voice full 
of emotion, said, "Doctor, you don't mean to say that 
my child will never see again?" " Yes," replied the doc- 
tor; "your child has lost its sight, and will never se e 
again." And that mother just gave a scream, and drew 



1 68 Moody's child stories. 

that child to her bosom. "O my darling child," sob- 
bed the woman; " are you never to see the mother that 
gave you birth; never to see the world again?" I could 
not keep back the tears when I saw the terrible agony 
of that woman when she realized the misfortune that had 
come upon her child. That was a terrible calamity, to 
grope in total darkness through this world; never to look 
upon the bright sky, the green fields; never to see the 
faces of loved ones; but what was it in comparison to 
the loss of a soul? I would rather have my eyes plucked 
out of my head, and go down to my grave in total blind- 
ness than lose my soul. 



■o- 





I remember, when on the North Side, I tried 
$f/ to reach a family time and again and failed. 
One night in the meeting, I noticed one of 
the little boys of that family. He hadn't come for any 
good, however; he was sticking pins in the backs of the 
other boys. I thought if I could get hold of him it 
would do good. I used always to go to the door and 
shake hands with the boys, and when I got to the door 
and saw this little boy coming out, I shook hands with 
him, and patted him on the head, and said I was glad to 
see him, and hoped he would come again. He hung his 



Moody's child stories. 



169 



head and went away. The next night, however, he came 
back, and he behaved better than he did the previous 
night. He came two or three times after, and then asked 
us to pray for him that he might become a Christian. 
That was a happy night for me. He became a Christian, 
and a good one. One night I saw him weeping. I 
wondered if his old temper had got hold of him again, 
and when he got up I wondered what he was going to 




I HAVE STOPPED SWEARING; AND WANT YOU TO BE A CHRISTIAN MOTHER. 

say. "1 wish you would pray for my mother," he said. 
When the meeting was over I went to him, and asked, 
"Have you ever spoken to your mother, or tried to pray 
with her?" " Well, you know, Mr. Moody," he replied, 
"I never had an opportunity; she don't believe, and 



170 Moody's child stories. 

won't hear me." "Now," I said, " I want you to talk 
to your mother to-night." For years I had been trying 
to reach her and couldn't do it. 

So I urged him to talk to her that night, and I said, 
" I will pray for you both." When he got to the sitting- 
room he found some people there, and he sat waiting for 
an opportunity, when his mother said it was time for him 
to go to bed. He went to the door undecided. He took 
a step, stopped, and turned around, and hesitated for a 
minute, then ran to his mother and threw his arms 
around her neck, and buried his face in her bosom. 
"What is the matter?" she asked; she thought he was 
sick. Between his sobs he told his mother how for five 
weeks he had wanted to be a Christian; how he had 
stopped swearing; how he was trying to be obedient to 
her, and how happy he would be if she would be a Chris- 
tian, and then went off to bed. She sat for a few min- 
utes, but couldn't stand it, and went up to his room. 
When she got to the door she heard him weeping, and 
praying, " O God, convert my dear mother." She came 
down again, but couldn't sleep that night. Next day she 
told the boy to go and ask Mr. Moody to come over and 
see her. He called at my place of business (I was in 
business then), and I went over as quiet as I could. I 
found her sitting in a rocking-chair weeping. " M*\ 
Moody," she said, "I want to become a Christian" 
"What has brought that change over you? I thought you 
didn't believe in it." Then she told me how her boy had 



MOODYS CHILD STORIES. 



171 



come to her, and how she hadn't slept any all night, and 
how her sin rose up before her like a dark mountain. 
The next Sunday that boy came and led that mother into 
the Sabbath-school, and she became a Christian worker. 
O little children, if you find Christ, tell it to your 
fathers and mothers. Throw your arms around their 
necks and lead them to Jesus. 



-o- 




I want to tell you a les- 
son taught me in Chicago 
a few years ago. In the 
months of July and August, 
a great many deaths oc- 
curred among children, you 
all know. I remember I 
attended a great many 
funerals; sometimes I 
would go to two or three funerals a day. I got so used 
to it that it did not trouble me to see a mother take the 
last kiss and the last look at her child, and see the coffin- 
lid closed. I got accustomed to it, as in the war we got 
accustomed to the great battles, and to see the wounded 
and the dead never troubled us. When I got home one 
night, I heard that one of my Sunday-school pupils was 
dead, and her mother wanted me to come to the house, 



172 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



1 went to the poor home, and saw the father drunk. 
Adelaide had been brought from the river. The mother 
told me she washed for a living, the father earned no 
money, and poor Adelaide's work was to get wood for the 
fire. She had gone to the river that day and seen a 
piece floating on the water, had stretched out for it, had 
lost her balance, and fallen in. The poor woman was 
very much distressed. " I would like you to help me, 
Mr. Moody," she said, "to bury my child. I have no 
lot, I have no money." Well, I took the measure for 
the coffin, and came away. I 
had my little girl with me, and 
she said, "Papa, suppose we 
were very, very poor, and 
mamma had to work for a liv- 
ing, and I had to get sticks for 
the fire, and was to fall into 
the river, would you be very 
sorry?" This question reached 
my heart. "Why, my child, 
it would break my heart to 
lose you," I said, and I drew 
her to my bosom. ' ' Papa, do you feel bad for that 
mother?" she said. This word woke my sympathy for the 
woman, and I started and went back to the house, and 
prayed that the Lord might bind up that wounded heart. 
When the day cam 3 for the funeral I went to Graceland, 
I had always thought my time too precious to go out 




SHE HAD REACHED OUT FOR IT 



Moody's child stories. 173 

there, but I went. The drunken father was there and 
the poor mother. I bought a lot, the grave was dug, 
and the child laid among strangers. There was another 
funeral coming up, and the corpse was laid near the grave 
of little Adelaide. - And I thought how I would feel if it 
had been my little girl that I had been laying there 
among strangers. I went to my Sabbath-school thinking 
this, and suggested that the children should contribute 
and buy a lot, in which we might bury a hundred poor 
little children. We soon got it, and the papers had 
scarcely been made out, when a lady came and said, 
" Mr. Moody, my little girl died this morning; let me bury 
her in the lot you have got for the Sunday-school chil- 
dren." The request was granted, and she asked me to go 
to the lot and say prayers over her child. I went to the 
grave; it was a beautiful day in June, and I remember 
asking her what the name of her child was. She said 
Emma. That was the name of my little girl, and I 
thought what if it had been my own child. We should 
put ourselves in the places of others. I could not help 
shedding a tear. Another woman came shortly after and 
wanted to put another one into the grave. I asked his 
name. It was Willie, and it happened to be the name of 
my little boy; the first two laid there were called by the 
same names as my two children, and I felt sympathy and 
compassion for those two women. 

If you want to get into sympathy, put yourself into a 
man's place. We need Christians whose hearts are full 



174 Moody's child stories. 

of compassion and sympathy. If we haven't got it, pray 
that we may have it, so that we may be able to reach 
those men and women that need kindly words and kindly 
actions far more than sermons. The mistake is, that we 
have been preaching too much, and sympathizing too 
little. The gospel of Jesus Christ is a gospel of deeds 
and not of words. 

o 

W?W%<*®&$ ^v ^y Some years ago, as I was 

y-||i|Bji^^^|^ffi Tiyftf about to close a prayer 

i3f^OT , aJJ^Y ===: ^^ meeting, a young man got 

^^B|^^^&-^y^^__^/ up and urged all those men 

i^F%^^S^ present that had not yet ac- 

'' cepted of Christ, to do so 

that night. And in closing up his little speech, he said, 

i( I once had a father and mother that cared more for my 

soul than for anything else. At last my father died; and 

when my father was dead and gone, my mother was 

more anxious than ever for me, and sometimes she would 

come and put her loving arms around my neck, and she 

would just plead with me to go to Christ. She used to 

tell me, after my father was dead, that she was lonesome 

without having me a Christian. I told her I sympathized 

with her; but declared I wanted to see a little of the 

world. I did not want to become a Christian in early 

life. Sometimes I would wake up past midnight, and 

would hear a voice in my mother's chamber. I would 



Moody's child stories. 175 

hear that godly mother crying to God for her boy. I was 
her only child. I was very dear to her. At last I felt I 
must either become a Christian or go away from that 
mother's influence; and I ran away. After I had been 
gone a long time, I heard from home indirectly. I heard 
my mother was sick. I knew what it meant. I knew 
that she was pining for me. I knew her heart was 
broken on account of me and my wayward life. I 
thought I would go home and ask my mother to forgive 
me. My second thought was, if I did, I would have to 
go and be a Christian. I could not stay under the same 
roof without becoming a Christian. My rebellious heart 
said, ' I will not go.' When I heard again, I heard my 
mother was much worse. The thought came, suppos- 
ing my mother should die, supposing I should never see 
that mother again, I never could forgive myself. I 
started for home. There was no train to my native vil- 
lage. I took the coach. I got in just after dark. The 
moon was shining. I had to go about a mile and a half 
to my mother's house; and on my way I thought I would 
go by the village graveyard, and I thought I would get 
over the fence, and go to the grave where my father was 
buried, to see if there was a new-made grave. It might 
be that mother was gone. When I drew near that grave, 
my heart began to beat more quickly, as by the light of 
the moon I saw the new-made grave. The whole story 
was told. The whole story was clear. My sainted 
mother was gone. It was a fresh-made grave. It had 



176 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



just been dug. For the first time in my life this question 
came stealing over me: Who was going to pray for my 
lost soul now? Father and mother both gone now. And, 
young men, I would have given the world, if I could have 
called that mother back and have her put her arms 
around my neck, and heard her breathe my name in 
prayer. But her voice was silent forever. She was gone. 




I WOULD HAVE GIVEN THE WORLD IF I COULD HAVE CALLED THAT 

MOTHER BACK 

I knelt beside that grave, crying that God might have 
mercy on me, and that God would forgive me. And I 
did not leave that grave all night till the morning dawn. 
But before morning I believed that God, for Christ's sake, 
had forgiven my sins, and that my mother's God had 




The Judgment of Solomon. I Kings, iii. 




Moody's child stories. 179 

become my God. But, young men, I would never for- 
give myself. I never can. I killed that mother. I 
trampled her prayers and her entreaties under my feet. 
I broke her heart, and sent her to her grave. Young 
man, if you have a godly mother, treat her kindly." 



I want to tell how I 
got my first impulse to 
work solely for the con- 
version of men. For a 
long time after my conversion I didn't accomplish any- 
thing. I hadn't got my right place? That was it. I 
hadn't thought enough of this personal work. I'd get up 
in prayer-meeting, and I'd pray with the others, but just 
to go up to a man and take hold of his coat and get him 
down on his knees, I hadn't yet got round to that. It 
was in i860 the change came. In the Sunday-school I 
had a pale, delicate young man as one of the teachers. 
I knew his burning piety, and assigned him to the worst 
class in the school. They were all girls, and it was an 
awful class. They kept gadding around in the school- 
room, and were laughing and carrying on all the while. 
And this young man had better success than any one else. 
One Sunday he was absent, and I tried myself to teach 
the class, but couldn't do anything with them; they 
seemed further off than ever from any concern about 



i8o 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



their souls. Well, the day after his absence, early Mon- 
day morning, the young man came into the store where I 
worked, and, tottering and bloodless, threw himself down 
on some boxes. " What's the matter?" I asked. " I have 
been bleeding at the lungs, and they have given me up to 
die," he said. " But you are not afraid to die?" I ques- 
tioned. " No, " said he, ' ' I am not afraid to die, but I have 
got to stand before God and give an account of my 
stewardship, and not one of my Sabbath-school scholars 
has been brought to 
Jesus. I have failed to 
bring one, and haven't 
any strength to do it 
now." 

He was so weighed 
down that I got a car- 
riage and took that dying 
man in it, and we called 
at the homes of every 
one of his scholars, and 
to each one he said, as 
best his faint voice would 
let him, "I have come 
to just ask you to come 
to the Savior," and then he prayed as I never heard be- 
fore. And for ten days he labored in that way, some- 
times walking to the nearest houses, and at the end of 
that ten days every one of that large class had yielded 




BUT YOU ARE NOT AFRAID TO DIE 



Moody's chiLd stories. 



iit 



to the Savior. Full well do I remember the night before 
he went away (for the doctors said he must hurry to the 
south), how we held a true love-feast. It was the very 
gate of heaven, that meeting. He prayed, and they 
prayed; he didn't ask them, he didn't think they could 
pray; and then we sung, "Blest be the tie that binds." 
It was a beautiful night in June that he left on the Mich- 
igan Southern, and I was down to the train to help him 
off. And those girls every one gathered there again, all 
unknowm to each other; and the depot seemed a second 
gate to heaven, in the joyful, yet tearful communion and 
farewells between those newly redeemed souls and him 
whose crown of rejoicing it will be that he led them to 
Jesus. At last the gong sounded, and, supported on the 
platform, the dying man, shook hands with each one, and 
whispered, " I will meet you yonder." 



■o- 




Only a few years ago, 
in the city of Philadel- 
phia, there was a mother 
who had two sons. They 
were just going as fast as 
they could to ruin. They were breaking her heart, and 
she went into a little prayer-meeting and got up and pre- 
sented them for prayer. They had been on a drunken 
spree, or had just got started in that way, and she knew 
that their end would be a drunkard's grave, and she went 



182 



Moody's child stories. 



among these Christians, and said, l ' Won't you just cry 
to God for my two boys?" The next morning those two 
boys had made an appointment to meet each other on 
the corner of Market and Thirteenth streets, though not 
that they knew anything about our meeting; and while 
one of them was there at the corner, waiting for his 
brother to come, he followed the people who were flood- 




"I AM THAT BROTHER." 

ing into the depot building, and the spirit of the Lord 
met him, and he was wounded and found his way tk 
Christ. After his brother came, he found the place too 
crowded to enter, so he too went curiously into another 
meeting and found Christ, and went home happy; and 
when he got home he told his mother what the Lord had 



Moody's child stories. 183 

done for him, and the second son came with the same 
tidings. I heard one of them get up afterwards to tell 
his experience in the young converts' meeting, and he 
had no sooner told the story than the other got up, and 
said, "I am that brother, and there is not a happier 
home in Philadelphia than we have got." 

o 




In London, in 1872, one 
Sunday morning a minister 
said to me, " I want you to 
notice that family there in 
one of the front seats, and 
when we go home I want to 
tell you their story." When 
we got home I asked him 
for the story, and he said, "All that family were won 
by a smile." " Why," said I, "how's that?" "Well," 
said he, " as I was walking down a street one day, I saw 
a child at a window; it smiled, and I smiled, and we 
bowed. So it was the second time; I bowed, she bowed. 
It was not long before there was another child, and I had 
got in a habit of looking and bowing, and pretty soon 
the group grew, and at last, as I went by, a lady was 
with them. I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to 
bow to her, but I knew the children expected it, and so 
I bowed to them all. And the mother saw I was a min- 
ister, because I carried a Bible every Sunday morning. 



1 84 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



So the children followed me the next Sunday, and found 

I was a minister. And they thought I was the greatest 

preacher, and their parents must hear me. A minister 

who is kind to a child, and 

gives him a pat on the head, 

why the children will think 

he is the greatest preacher 

in the world. Kindness 

goes a great way. And to 

make a long story short, the 

father and mother and five 

children were converted, 

and they are going to join 

our church next Sunday." 

Won to Christ by a 
smile! We must get the wrinkles out of our brows, and 
we must have smiling faces. 




'(l[fl?fpflllHMIIIMIIIIl'HIITOP 



WON BY A SMILE. 




There was a boy a 
great many years ago, 
stolen in London, the 
same as Charley Ross 
was stolen here. Long months and years passed away, 
and the mother had prayed and prayed, as the mother of 
Charley Ross has prayed, I suppose, and all her efforts 
had failed, and they had given up all hope; but the 
mother did not quite give up her hope. One day a little 



Moody's child stories. 



185 



boy was sent up into the neighboring house to sweep the 
chimney, and by some mistake he got down again through 
the wrong chimney. When he came down, he came in 
by the sitting-room chimney. His memory began at 
once to travel 
back through the 
years that had 
passed. He 
thought that 
things looked fa- 
mili ar . The 
scenes of the early 
days of youth were 
dawning upon 
him; and as he 
stood there sur- 
veying the place, 
his mother came 

into the room. He stood there covered with rags and 
soot. Did she wait until she sent him to be washed be- 
fore she rushed and took him in her arms? No, indeed; 
it was her own boy. She took him to her arms all black 
and smoke, and hugged him to her bosom, and shed 
tears of joy upon his head. 




HE STOOD THERE COVERED WITH RAGS AND SOOT. 



-o- 



1 86 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 




A friend of mine in Chi- 
cago took his Sabbath- 
school out on the cars once. 
A little boy was allowed to 
sit on the platform of the 
car, when by some mis- 
chance he fell, and the whole train passed over him. 
They had to go on half a mile before they could stop. 
They went back to him, and found that the poor little 
fellow had been cut and mangled all to pieces. Two of 
the teachers went back with the remains to Chicago. 
Then came the terrible task of telling the parents about 
it. When they got to the 
house they dared not go 
in. They were waiting 
there for five minutes be- 
fore any one had the cour- 
age to tell the story. But 
at last they ventured in. 
They found the family at 
dinner. The father was 
called out; they thought 
they would tell the father 
first. He came out with 
the napkin in his hand. 
My friend said to him, " I 
have got very bad news to 




THE WHOLE TRAIN PASSED OVER HIM. 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



I8 7 



tell you. Your little Jimmy has got run over by the 

cars." The poor man turned deathly pale, and rushed 

into the room crying out, "Dead, dead." The mother 

sprang to her feet and came out of the sitting-room to 

where the teachers were. When she heard the sad story, 

she fainted dead away at their feet. "Mr. Moody," 

said my friend, " I wouldn't be the messenger of such 

tidings again if you would give me the whole of Chicago. 

I never suffered so much. I have got a son dearer to me 

than my life, and yet I would rather have a train a mile 

long run over him than that he should die without God 

and without hope." What is the loss of a child to the 

loss of a soul? 

o 




A short time after 
I got here, I received 
a letter from Scot- 
land. It was sent to 
a minister, and he forwarded it to me. 
It was the gushing of a loving father. 
He asked us to look out for his boy, whose 
name was Willie. That name touched my 
heart, because it was the name of my own boy. 
I asked Mr. Sawyer to try and get on the track 
of that boy some weeks ago, but all his efforts were fruit- 
less. But away off in Scotland that Christian father was 



1 88 Moody's child stories. 

holding that boy up to God in prayer, and last Friday, in 

yonder room, among those asking for prayers was that 

Willie, and he told me a story there that thrilled my 

heart, and testified how 

the prayers of that 

father and mother in 

that far-off land had 

been instrumental in 

effecting his salvation. 

Don't you think the 

heart of that father and 

mother will rejoice? He 

said he was rushing 

madly to destruction, 

but there was a power 

in those prayers that 

saved that boy. Don't 

you think, my friends, 

HE TOLD ME A STORY THERE THAT THRILLED 

that God hears and an- MY heart. 

swers prayers, and shall we not lift up our voices to Him 

in prayer that He will bless the children He has given us? 

o 




fitf^og 



& 



I like to think 
of Christ as a 
burden - bearer. 
A minister was 

one day moving his library upstairs. As the minister was 

going upstairs with his load of books his little boy came 

in, and was very anxious to help his father. So his 

father just told him to go and get an armful and take 

them upstairs. When 

the father came back, 

he met the little fellow 

about half-way up the 

stairs tugging away 

with the biggest in the 

library. He couldn't 

manage to carry it up. 

The book was too big. 

So he sat down and 

cried. His father 

found him, and just 

took him in his arms, 

book and all, and car- 
ried him upstairs. So 

Christ will carry you 

and all your burdens. 

189 




THE BOOK WAS TOO BIG. 




A lady once told me 
she was in her pantry 
on one occasion, and 
she was surprised by 
the ringing of a bell. 
As she whirled around 
to see what it was, 
she broke a tumbler. 

Her little child was standing there, and she thought her 

mother was doing a very correct thing, and the moment 

the lady left the pantry, the child commenced to break 

all the tumblers she 

could get hold of 

You may laugh, but 

children are very good 

imitators. If you 

don't want them to 

break the Sabbath 

day, keep it h o 1 y 

yourself. It is very 

often by imitation 

that they utter their 

first oath; that they 

tell their first lie, and 

it grows upon them, 

and when they try to 

quit the habit, it has 

grown so strong upon them that they cannot do i;» 

190 




SHE BROKE ALL THE TUMBLERS SHE COU1 X> 
GET HOLD OF. 




I heard of a Sun- 
day-school concert at 
which a little child of 
eight was going to re- 
cite. Her mother had taught her, and when the night 
came the little thing was trembling so she could scarcely 
speak. She commenced, " Jesus said," and completely 
broke down. Again she tried it, " Jesus said suffer," but 
she stopped 
once more. A 
third attempt 
was made by 
her, " Suffer 
little children, 
and don't any- 
body stop 
them, for He 
wants them all 
to come," and 
that is the 
truth. There 
is not a child 
who has a par- 
ent in the Tab- 
ernacle but He wants, and if you but bring them in the 
arms of your faith, and ask the Son of God to bless them 




SUFFER LITTLE CHILDREN. 



*9* 



192 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



and train them in the knowledge of God, and teach them 
as you walk your way, as you lie down at night, as you 
rise up in the morning, they will be blessed. 

o 




Took the Whippings. 



When I was a boy my 
mother used to send me 
outdoors to get a birch 
stick to whip me with; 
and at first I used to 
stand off from the rod as 
far as I could. But I 
soon found that the 



whipping hurt me more that way than any other; and so 
I went as near to my mother as I could, and found the 
punishment lighter. And so 
when God chastens us let us 
kiss the rod and draw as near 
to Him as we can. Some one 
has said that God sent one son 
into the world without sin, but 
no son without sorrow. We 
are not able to read the prob- 
lem now, or to see just why 
we are affected; but by-and-by 
we shall know, and all will be 
made plain. There is one pas- 
sage of Scripture which has Ml USED TO STAND 0FF FR0M 

THE ROD." 





Moses in the Bulrushes. Exodus, ii. 



MOODY'S CHILD STORIES. 



195 



always been a great comfort to me. In the eighth chap- 
ter of Romans, Paul says, ' ' All things work together for 
good to them that love God." A few years ago a little 
child of mine had the scarlet fever; and I went to the 
druggist's to get the prescription which the doctor had 
ordered, and told him to be sure and be very careful in 
making it up. And the druggist took down one bottle 
after another, in any one of which there might be what 
would be rank poison for my child; but he stirred them 
together and mixed them up, and made just the medicine 
which my child needed; and so God gives us a little ad- 
versity here, a little prosperity there, and works all for 

our good. . 

o 




There is a 
story of Dr. 
ChalmerSo A 
lady came to 
him, and said, 
" Doctor, I cannot bring my child to Christ. I've talked, 
and talked, but it's of no use." The doctor thought she 
had not much skill, and said, " Now, you be quiet, and I 
will talk to her alone." When the doctor got the Scotch 
lassie alone he said to her, "They are bothering you a 
good deal about this question; now, suppose I just tell 
your mother you don't want to be talked to any more 



196 Moody's child stories. 

upon this subject for a year. How will that do?" Weil, 
the Scotch lassie hesitated a little, and then said she 
didn't think it would be safe to wait for a year. Some- 
thing might turn up. 
She might die before 
then. "Well, that's 
so, " replied the doctor, 
"but suppose we say 
six months. " She didn't 
think even this would 
be safe. " That's so," 
was the doctor's reply; 
"well, let us say three 
months." After a little 
hesitation, the girl 
finally said, ' ' I don't 
think it would be safe to put it off for three months; 
don't think it would be safe to put it off at all," and they 
went down on their knees and found Christ. 

o 




HE TALKED TO HER ALONE. 




A lady had a 
little child that 
was dying. She 
thought it was 
resting sweetly 
in the arms of 
Jesus. She went into the room, and the child asked her, 



Moody's child stories. 197 

" What are those clouds and mountains that I see so 
dark?" "Why, Eddy," said his mother, "there are no 
clouds or mountains; you must be mistaken." "Why, 
yes, I see great mountains, and dark clouds, and I want 
you to take me in your arms and carry me over the 
mountains." "Ah," said the mother, "you must pray to 
Jesus; He will carry you safely." And, my friends, the 
sainted mother, the praying wife, may come to your bed- 
side and wipe the damp sweat from your brow, but they 
cannot carry you over the 
Jordan when the hour 
comes. This mother said 
to her little boy, " 1 am 
afraid that it is unbelief 
that is coming upon you, 
my child, and you must 
pray that the Lord will be 
with you in your dying 
moments." And the two 
prayed, but the boy turned 
to her, and said, "Don't 
you hear the angels, 
mother, over the mount- D0N ' T Y0U HEAR THE ANGEL s? 
ains, and calling for me, and I cannot go?" ' ' My dear boy, 
pray to Jesus, and He will come; He only can take you." 
And the boy closed his eyes and prayed, and when he 
opened them a heavenly smile overspread his face, as he 
said, "Jesus has come to carry me over the mountains." 




198 



Moody's child stories. 



Dear sinner, Jesus is ready and willing to carry you 
over the mountains of sin, and over your mountains of 
unbelief. Give yourself to Him. 



■o- 




SAD FAREWELL. 



A few years ago I was in 
a town in our state, the guest 
of a family that had a little 
boy about thirteen years, 
who did not bear the family 
name, yet was treated like 
the rest. Every night when 
he retired, the lady of the 
house kissed him, and treated him in every respect like 
all the other children. I said to the lady of the house, 
" I don't understand it." I think he was the finest look- 
ing boy I have ever seen. I said to her, " I don't un-. 
derstand it." She says, "I want to tell you about that 
boy. That boy is the son of a missionary. His father 
and mother were missionaries in India, but they found 
they had got to bring their children back to this country 
to educate them. So they gave up their mission field, and 
came back to educate their children, and to find some 
missionary work to do in this country. But they were 
not prospered here as they had been in India, and the 
father said, "I will go back to India"; and the mother 
said, " If God has called you to go, I am sure it will be 
my duty to go and my privilege to go, and I will go with 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



199 



you." The father said, " You have never been separated 
from the children, and it will be hard for you to be sepa- 
rated from them; perhaps you had better stay and take 
care of them." 

But after prayer they decided to leave their children to 
be educated, and they left for India. This lady heard of 
it and sent a letter to the parents, in which she stated if 
they left one child at her house, she would treat it like 
one of her own children. She said the mother came and 
spent a few days at her house, and, being satisfied that 
her boy would receive .- - 



proper care, consented to 
leave him, and the night 
before she was to leave 
him, the missionary said 
to the western lady, ' ' I 
want to leave my boy to- 
morrow morning without 
a tear"; said she, " I may 
never see him again." But 
she didn't want him to 
think she was weeping for ^ MAY NEVE r see him again." 
anything she was doing for the Master. The lady said 
to herself, " She won't leave that boy without a tear." 
But the next day when the carriage drove up to the door, 
the lady went upstairs, and she heard the mother crying in 
prayer, ' ' O God, give me strength for this hour. Help 
me to go away from my boy without a tear." When she 




^oo Moody's child stories. 

jame down there was a smile upon her face. She hugged 
him and she kissed him, but she smiled as she did it. 
She gave up all her five or six children without shedding 
a tear, went back to India, and in about a year there 
came a voice, "Come up hither." Do you think she 
would be a stranger in the Lord's world? Don't you 
think she will be known there as a mother that loved her 
child? 

o 




Previous to my coming 
across to this great country 
of ours, I was holding meet- 
ings in London. I took my 
ticket from there to Man- 
chester to bid some friends 
good-by. When I got to 
the railway carriage I saw 
little groups of boys around 
two little fellows. Their 
coats were threadbare, with patches here and there care- 
fully covering up the holes. Some good mother, it was 
evident, too poor to send them away in fine style, was 
trying to make them as neat as she could. The boys be- 
longed to a Sunday-school in London, and the group 
around them were their school-mates, who had come 
down to bid them good-by. They shook hands, and then 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



20I 



their Sunday-school teacher did the same, and wished 
them godspeed. After that their minister came and 
took them by the hand, and breathed a prayer that they 
would be blessed. When they all had bade the boys 
good-by, a poor widow came up and put her arm around 
the companion of her son. Perhaps he had no mother, 
and she kissed him for his mother, and wished him good- 
by. Then she put her arms around the neck of the other 
boy, and put his arms around her, and she began to weep. 
4 'Don't cry, mother, " 
said the boy," don't 
cry; I'll soon be in 
America, and I'll J 
save money, and 
soon send for you to 
come out to me; I'll 
have you out with 
me. Don't cry." 
He stepped into the 
carriage, the steam 
was turned on, and 
the train was in mo- 
tion when he put his 
head out of the win- 
dow, and Cried, " DON'T CRY, MOTHER, I'LL SOON BE IN AMERICA, 

„ nl n AND i'll save money and send for you." 

' ' r arewell, dear 

mother"; and the mother's prayer went out, "God bless 

m y hoy, God bless my boy." Don't you think that when 




202 



MOODYS CHILD STORIES. 



they came to America, and sent the first letter to Eng- 
land, that mother would run quickly to the door when the 
postman came with that letter? How quick that mother 
would take that letter and break the seal! She wants to 
hear good news. There is not one here who has not a 
message of good news, of glad tidings; better news than 
was ever received by a mother in England from a son in 
America, or from a mother in England by a son in 
America. It is glad tidings from a loving Savior; glad 
tidings of great joy. 



-o- 




But I have 
another story to 
tell. It was 
Ralph Wallace 
who told me of 
this one. A cer- 
tain gentleman 
was a member of the Presbyterian church. His little boy 
was sick. When he went home his wife was weeping, 
and she said, " Our boy is dying; he has had a change 
for the worse. I wish you would go in and see him." 
The father went into the room and placed his hand upon 
the brow of his dying boy, and could feel the cold, damp 
sweat was gathering there; that the cold, icy hand of 
death was feeling for the chords of life. " Do you know, 
my boy, that you are dying?" asked the father. "Am 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



203 



I? Is this death? Do you really think I am dying?" 
" Yes, my son, your end on earth is near." "And will 
I be with Jesus to-night, father?" "Yes, you will be 
with the Savior." "Father, don't you weep, for when 
I get there I will go 
straight to Jesus and 
tell Him that you have 
been trying all my life 
to lead me to Him.'' 
God has given me two 
little children, and 
ever since I can re- 
member I have direct- 
ed them to Christ, and 
I would rather they 
carried this message to 
Jesus, that I had tried 
all my life to lead them 
to Him, than have all 
the crowns of the 
earth; and I would 
rather lead them to Jesus than give them the wealth of 
the world. I challenge any man to speak of heaven 
without speaking of children. " For of such is the king- 
dom of heaven." 




" AND WILL I BE WITH JESUS TO-NIGHT, 
FATHER?" 



-O- 




The first two or 
three years that I at- 
tempted to talk in the 
meetings, I saw that 
the older people did 
not like it. I had sense enough to know that I was a 
bore to them. li Well, I went out upon the street and I 
got eighteen little children to follow me the first Sunday, 
and I led them into the Sunday-school. I found that I 
had something to do. I was encouraged, and I kept at 
that work. And if I am worth anything to the Christian 
church to-day, it is as much due to that work as any- 
thing else. I could not explain these Scriptural pas- 
sages to them, for I did not then comprehend them, but 
I could tell them stories; I could tell them that Christ 
loved them, and that He died for them. I did the best I 
could. I used the little talent I had, and God kept giv- 
ing me more talents, and so, let me say, find some work. 
See if you can get a Sabbath-school to teach. If you 
cannot get that, go down into the dark lanes and by- 
ways of the city and talk to them and sing some gospel 
hymns; or, if you cannot sing, take some one with you 



204 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



205 



that can sing some of these songs of praise. Sing or 
read the twenty-third psalm, or pray, and you can get a 
blessing in that way. When you have won one soul to 




I FOUND THAT I HAD SOMETHING TO DO. 

Christ, you will want to win two, and when you get into 
the luxury of winning souls it will be a new world to 
you, and you will not think of going back to the world 
at all. 



-o- 




Not long ago a young man 
went home late. He had been 
in the habit of going home late, 
and the father began to mis- 
trust that he had gone astray. 
He told his wife to go to bed, 
and dismissed the servants, and 
said he would sit up till his son came home. The boy 
came home drunk, and the father in his anger gave him 
a push into the street, and told him never to enter his 
house again, and shut the door. He went into the parlor 




I VE BEEN THE MEANS OF LEADING YOU ASTRAY, AND I WANT YOUR 

FRIENDSHIP. 

and sat down, and began to think, "Well, I may be to 
blame for that boy's conduct after all. I have never 



206 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



207 



prayed with him. I have never warned him of the 
dangers of the world." And the result of his reflections 
was that he put on his overcoat and hat, and started out 
to find his boy. The first policeman he met he asked 
eagerly, " Have you seen my boy?" " No." On he went 
till he met another. "Have you seen anything of my 
son?" He ran from one to another all that night, but 
not until the morning did he find him. He took him by 
the arm and led him home, and kept him till he was 
sober. Then he said, ' ' My dear boy, I want you to for- 
give me; I've never prayed for you; I've never lifted up 
my heart to God for you; I've been the means of leading 
you astray, and I want your forgiveness. " The boy was 
touched, and what was the result? Within twenty-four 
hours that son became a convert and gave up that cup. 



-o- 




I rl B. ^^^R^/j^X There is a little story 

that has gone the round of 
the American press that 
made a great impression 
upon me as a father. A 
father took his little child 
out into the field one Sab- 
bath, and, it being a hot 
day, he lay down under a beautiful, shady tree. The 



208 



MOODYS CHILD STORIES. 



little child ran about gathering wild flowers and little 

blades of grass, and coming to its father and saying, 

''Pretty, pretty!" At last the father fell asleep, and 

while he was sleeping the little child wandered away. 

When he awoke, his first thought was, "Where is my 

child?" He looked all around, but he could not see it. 

He shouted at the top of 

his voice, but all he heard 

was the echo of his own 

voice. Running to a 

little hill, he looked 

around and shouted again . 

No response! Then going 

to a precipice at some 

distance, he looked down, 

and there, upon the rocks 

and briars, he saw the 

mangled form of his loved 

child. While he was sleeping his child had wandered 

over the precipice. I thought, as I heard that, what a 

picture of the church of God! 

How many fathers and mothers, how many Christian 
men, are sleeping now while their children wander over 
the terrible precipice right into the bottomless pit. 
Father, where is your boy to-night? 




HE SAW THE MANGLED FORM OF HIS 
LOVED CHILD. 



O- 




Hagar in the Wilderness. Genesis, xlv. 




I heard of a little child some time 
ago who was burned. The mother 
had gone out and left the three chil- 
dren at home. The eldest left the 
room, and the remaining two began 
to play with fire, and set the place in 
a blaze. When the youngest of the 
two saw what she had done, she went 
into a little cupboard and fastened 
herself in. The remaining child 

went to the door and 

knocked and knock- 
ed, crying to her to 

open the door and 

let her take her out 

of the burning build- 
ing, but she was too 

frightened to do it. 

It seems to me as if 

this was the way 

with hundreds and 

thousands. Christ 

stands and knocks, 

but they've got their 

hearts barred and 

bolted, because they she knocked and knocked. 

don't know that He has come only to bless them. 

211 J 





i- 7 / V ^ (J> 



Suppose I say to 
my boy, " Willie, I. 
want you to go out 
and bring me a glass 
of water. " He says 
he doesn't want to 
go. ' ' I didn't ask 
you whether you wanted to go or not, Willie; I told you 
to go." " But I don't want to go," he says. " I tell you, 
you must go and get me a glass of water." He does not 
like to go. But he knows I am very tond of grapes, and 
he is very fond 



of them him- 
self, so he goes 
out, and some })| 
one gives him a 
beautiful clus- 
ter of grapes. 
He comes in, 
and says, 
"Here, papa; 
- here is a beau- 
tiful cluster 
of grapes for 
you." "But 
what about the 
water?" "Won't 




"won't the grapes be acceptable, papa?' 



212 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



213 



the grapes be acceptable, papa?" " No, my boy, the 
grapes are not acceptable; I won't take them; I want 
you to get me a glass of water. " The little fellow doesn't 
want to get the water, but he goes out, and this time 
some one gives him an orange. He brings it in and 
places it before me. "Is that acceptable?" he asks. 
"No, no, no!" I say, "I want nothing but water; you 
cannot do anything to please me until you get the water." 
And so, my friends, to please God you must first obey 
Him. 

o 




A friend in Ireland 
once met a little Irish 
boy who had caught a 
sparrow. The poor 
little bird was trem- 
bling in his hand, and 
seemed very anxious to 
escape. The gentle- 
man begged the boy to 
let it go, as the bird could not do him any good; but the 
boy said he would not, for he had chased it three hours 
before he could catch it. He tried to reason it out with 
the boy, but in vain. At last he offered to buy the bird; 
the boy agreed to the price, and it was paid. Then the 
gentleman took the poor little thing and held it out in 



214 Moody's child stories. 

his hand. The boy had been holding it very fast, for the 
boy was stronger than the bird, just as Satan is stronger 
than we, and there it sat for a time, scarcely able to 
realize the fact \ 
that it had got 
liberty; but in a 
little while it flew 
away, chirping, as 
if to say to the gen- 
tleman, " Thank 
you! thank you! 
you have redeemed 
me." That is what 
redemption i s — 
buying back and 
setting free. So j] 
Christ came back 
to break the fet- 
ters of sin, to open the prison doors, and set the sinner 
free. This is the good news, the gospel of Christ; " Ye 
are not redeemed with corruptible things, as silver and 
gold, but with the precious blood of Christ." 




THE POOR LITTLE BIRD WAS TREMBLING IN 
HIS HAND. 




A minis- 
t e r who 
had lost 
his child 
asked an-, 
other min- 
is te r to 

come and preach for him. He came and he told how he 
lived on one side of a river, and felt very little interest in 
the people on the other side, until his daughter was 
married and went over there to live, and then every 
morning he went to the win- 
dow and looked over the river, 
and felt very much concerned 
about that town and all the 
people there. "Now," 
said he, " I think that 
as this child has crossed 
another river, heaven " 
will be dearer to him f 

I; 

than ever it has been 

before." Shall we not 

just let our hearts and 

affections be set on the looking over the river. 

other side of the river? It is but a step; it is but a vail; 

we shall soon be in the other world. 




215 




My little boy, who has been 
sick and in the habit of waking 
up every morning at six o'clock, 
an hour before I want to wake, 
woke up one morning at half- 
past five, and his mother told 
him he must keep still for an 
hour and a half; and he kept 

making a noise, till at last his mother had to speak pretty 

quick to him, and when I woke up I found the little fel- 
low sobbing. I said, " Willie, what's the matter?" Well, 

he was pretty angry ,. ^.^ 

with his mother. 

He got out of bed 

and knelt down, 

and I said, " What 

areyou going to do?" 

" I'm going to say 

my prayers." I told 

him God wouldn't 

hear his prayer 

while he was angry 

with his mother. 

If you bring your 

prayers to God and 

have aught against ke asked his mother to forgive him. 




216 



Moody's child stories. 217 

your brother you need not pray. Well, the little fel- 
low went off upstairs, and by-and-by he went up and 
asked his mother to forgive him, and then he prayed and 
went off with a light heart, and kept a light heart all 
day. Christ says, "You can get victory through Me." 
How easy, when the love of God is shed abroad in our 
hearts, it is to speak kindly of those who hate us and 
speak contemptuously of us! 

I remember seeing a story 
some time ago in print. It 
has been in the papers, but it 
will not hurt us to hear it 
again. A family in a southern 
city were stricken down with 
yellow fever. It was raging 
there, and there were very stringent sanitary rules. The 
moment anybody died, a cart went around and took the 
coffin away. The father was taken sick and died, and 
was buried; and the mother was at last stricken down. 
The neighbors were afraid of the plague, and none dared 
to go into the house. The mother had a little son and 
was anxious about her boy, and afraid he would be neg- 
lected when she was called away, so she called the little 
fellow to her bedside, and said, " My boy, I am going to 
leave you, but Jesus will come to you when I am gone." 
The mother died, the cart came along, and she was laid 




218 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



in the grave. The neighbors would have liked to take 
the boy, but were afraid of the pestilence. He wandered 
about and finally started up to the place where they had 
laid his mother, and sat down on the grave and wept 
himself to sleep. Next morning he awoke and realized 
his position, 
alone and hun- 
gry. A stranger 
came along and 
seeing the little 
fellow sitting 
on the ground, 
asked him what 
he was waiting 
for. The boy 
remem b e r e d 
what his moth- 
er had told him 
and answered, "i am waiting for jesus." 

" I am waiting for Jesus," and told him the whole story. 
The man's heart was touched, tears trickled down his 
cheeks, and he said, "Jesus has sent me," to which the 
boy replied, " You have been a good while coming, sir." 
He was provided for. So it is with us. To wait for re- 
sults we must have courage and patience, and God will 
help us. 




-o- 




RAYER 



At the close of 
one of the after- 
no o n meetings 
we had in the 
Berkeley street 
church a few 
weeks ago, a 
little child 

brought me a note. I put it in my pocket, and read it 

when I got home. It was this, " Won't you pray that 

my mother may come home?" On inquiry I found that 

she was a little waif, her father was dead, and that her 

mother had deserted her and gone out to San Francisco, 

and had been gone over a year. Well, I must confess it 

kind of staggered me that 

they should pray that that 

mother might come back. 

But this note has just 

been handed to me, "You 

will remember the little 

child who asked prayers 

for her mother to return 

home, having been absent 

a year. This mother has 

returned, and was at the 

meeting with her little 

child on Friday night." The little child now wants us 

to pray that her dear mother may be converted, 

219 




PRAY THAT MY MOTHER MAY BE CON- 
VERTED. 




I remember one time 
my little girl was teasing 
her mother to get her a 
muff, and so one day her 
mother brought a muff 
home, and, although it 
was storming, she very 
MUFF. naturally wanted to yo 

out in order to try her new muff. So she tried to get n e 

to go out with her. I went out with her, and I said, 

" Emma, better let me take your hand." She wanted to 

keep her hands in her muff, and so she refused to take 

my hand. Well, by- 

and-by she came to an 

icy place, her little feet 

slipped, and down she 

went. When I helped 

her up, she said, " Pa- 
pa, you may give me 

your little finger." 

"No, my daughter, 

just' take my hand." 

"No, no, papa, give 

me your little finger." 

Well, I gave my finger 

to her, and tor a little "papa, give me your hand. 




220 



MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 



221 



way she got along nicely, but pretty soon we came to 
another icy place, and again she fell. This time she hurt 
herself a little, and she said, ' ' Papa, give me your hand, " 
and I gave her my hand, and closed my fingers about her 
wrist, and held her up so that she could not fall. Just 
so God is our keeper. He is wiser than we. 




A vessel was wrecked off the 
shore. Eager eyes were watch- 
ing and strong arms manned 
the life-boat. For hours they 
tried to reach that vessel 
through the great breakers 
that raged and foamed on the 
sand-bank, but it seemed impossible. The boat appeared 
to be leaving the crew to perish. Bat after a while the 
captain and sixteen men were taken off, and the vessel 




FOR HOURS THEY TRIED TO REACH THAT VESSEL. 



222 MOODY S CHILD STORIES. 

went down. "When the life-boat came to you," said a 
friend, " did you expect it had brought some tools to re- 
pair your old ship?" " O, no," was the response; " she 
was a total wreck. Two of her masts were gone, and if 
we had stayed mending her, only a few minutes, we must 
have gone down, sir. " ' ' When once off the old wreck, 
and safe in the life-boat, what remained for you to do?" 
" Nothing, sir, but just to pull for the shore." 



Light in the darkness, sailor, day is at hand! 
See o'er the foaming billows fair haven's land, 
Drear was the voyage, sailor, now almost o'er, 
Safe within the life-boat, sailor, pull for the shore. 

Cho. — Pull for the shore, sailor, pull for the shore! 

Heed not the rolling waves, but bend to the oar; 

Safe in the life-boat, sailor, cling to self no more! 

Leave the poor old stranded wreck, and pull for the shore. 

Trust in the life-boat, sailor, all else will fail, 

Stronger the surges dash and fiercer the gale, 

Heed Dot the stormy winds, though loudly they roar; 

Watch the " bright morning star," and pull for the shore. — Cho. 

Bright gleams the morning, sailor, lift up thy eye; 
Clouds and darkness disappearing, glory is nigh! 
Safe in the life-boat, sailor, sing evermore; 
"Glory, glory, hallelujah! " pull for the shore. — Cho. 

P. P. Bliss. 




I remember when I was a boy and 
went to Boston, I went to the postoffice 
two or three times a day to see if there 
was a letter for me. I knew there was 
not, as there was but one mail a day. I 
had not any employment, and was very 
homesick, and so I went constantly to 
the postoffice, thinking perhaps when the 
mail did come in, my letter had been 
mislaid. At last, however, I got a letter. 
It was from my youngest sister, the first letter she ever 
wrote to me. I opened it with a light heart, thinking 
there was some good news 



^tTTERg 



from home, but the bur- 
den of the whole letter 
was that she had heard 
there were pickpockets in 
Boston, and warned me 
to take care of them. I 
thought I had better get 
some money in hand first, 
and then I might take 
care of pickpockets. And 
so you must take care to 
remember salvation is a 
gift. You don't work for 
salvation, but work day and night after you have got it. 

223 




AT LAST I GOT A LETTER. 




There is a story told of an inci- 
dent that occurred during the last 
Indian mutiny. The English 
were besieged in the city of Luck- 
now, and were in momentary 
expectation of perishing at the 
hands of the fiends that sur- 
rounded them. There was a little 
Scotch lassie in this fort, and, 
while lying on the ground, she 
suddenly shouted, her face aglow 
with joy, " Dinna ye hear them 

comin'? Dinna ye hear 
them comin'?" " Hear 
what?" they asked. 
''Dinna ye hear them 
comin'?" And she sprang 
to her feet. It was the 
bagpipes of her native 
Scotland she heard. It 
was a native air she 
heard that was played 
by a regiment of her 
countrymen marching to p 
the relief of those cap- 
tives, and these deliver- 
ers made them free. O 
my friends, don't you 
hear Jesus Christ crying to you to-night? 




IT WAS THE BAGPIPES OF SCOTLAND SHE 
HEARD. 



224 




Lazarus and the Rich Man. Luke, xlv. 




When we were 
in Great Britain, in 
Manchester, a 
father woke up to 
the fact that we 
were going away 

THAT WAS COK- from that town. 

XV_CjO JL JiiJD. Just as we were 

about closing he got wonderfully interested in the meet- 
ings, and when we had gone to another town he said to 
his wife, "I have made a mistake; I should have taken 
you and the chil- 
dren and the ser- 
vants to those 
meetings. Now, 
I'm going to take 
my son from busi- 
ness, and take you 
and the children 
and the servants 
to the town where 
they are being 
held now, and 
take a house 
and have you all 

attend the meet- 
in^ " TTp ramp " MR - moody, my wife has got converted." 

227 




228 Moody's child stories. 

and took a house and sat down determined to remain 
there till all had been blessed. I remember him coming 
to me one night, soon after arriving, and saying, " Mr. 
Moody, my wife has got converted; thank God for that. 
If I get nothing else I am well paid." A few nights after 
he came in and said his son had become converted, and 
then told me one of the servants had been brought under 
the influence; and so he went on until the last day we 
were to be in that town arrived, and he came to me and 
said the last one of the family had yielded himself up to 
Christ, and went back to his native city rejoicing. When 
we were in London the father and son came up and as- 
sisted in the work, and I don't know a happier man in all 
Europe than that one. 

o 




A few years ago, at the 
mouth of Cleveland harbor, 
there were two lights, one at 
each side of the bay, called 
the upper and lower lights; 
and to enter the harbor safely 
by night, vessels must sight 
both of the lights. These 
western lakes are more dangerous sometimes than the 
great ocean. One wild, stormy night, a steamer was try- 
ing to make her way into the harbor. The captain and 
pilot were anxiously watching for the lights. By-and- 



Moody's child stories. 229 

by the pilot was heard to say, " Do you see the lower 
light?" " No," was the reply; "I fear we have passed 
them." "Ah, there are the lights," said the pilot; " and 
they must be, from the bluff on which they stand, the 
upper lights. We have passed the lower lights, and have 
lost our chance of getting into the harbor." What was 
to be done? They looked back, and saw the dim outline 
of the lower light- 
house against the 
sky. The lights had 




THEY WENT CRASH AGAINST THE ROCKS. 

gone out. " Can't you turn your head around?" " No; 
the night is too wild for that. She won't answer to her 
helm." The storm was so fearful that they could do 
nothing. They tried again to make for the harbor, but 
they went crash against the rocks, and sank to the bot- 
tom. Very few escaped; the great majority found a 
watery grave. Why? Simply because the lower lights 
had gone out. Now, with us the upper lights are all right. 



230 Moody's child stories. 

Christ Himself is the upper light, and we are the lower 
lights, and the cry to us is, keep the lower lights burning; 
that is what we have to do. He will lead us safe to the 
sunlit shore of Canaan, where there is no more night. 



Brightly beams our Father's mercy 

From His lighthouse ever more, 
But to us He gives the keeping 

Of the lights along the shore. 

Gho. — Let the lower lights be burning! 
Send a gleam across the wave! 
Some poor fainting, struggling seaman 
You may rescue, you may save. 

Dark the night of sin has settled, 

Loud and angry billows roar; 
Eager eyes are watching, longing, 

For the lights along the shore. — Cho. 

Trim your feeble lamp, my brother; 

Some poor seaman tempest-tossed, 
Trying now to make the harbor, 

In the darkness may be lost. — Cho. 

P. P. Bliss. 




I remember a mother 
that lay dying. She had 
been married the second 
time, and she had a boy 
that her second husband, 
this step-father, did not 
like, and his mother sent for me, and she said, " Now I 
am dying from consumption. I have been sick a long 
time, and since I have been lying here I have neglected 
that boy. He has got into bad company, and he is very, 
very unkind, and he is given to swearing; and, Mr. Moody, 
I want you to promise me that when I am gone, and he 
has no one to take care of him, you will look after 
him." I promised that I would. And soon after that 
mother died, and no 
sooner was she buried 
than that boy ran away 
and they did not know 
where he went to. The 
next Sunday I spoke to 
the children in my Sab- 
bath-school, and I 
asked them to look for 
him, and if they found 
him to let me know. 
And for some time I 




I PROMISED THAT I WOULD. 



did not hear of him, but one day one of my scholars told 



231 



232 Moody's child stories. 

me that the boy was a bell-boy in a certain hotel, and so 
I went there and I found him and talked with him. I 
remember it perfectly well; it was the third of July. He 
had no father or mother, but a step-father who did not 
care for him; and as I spoke to him kindly about Christ 
and what He had done for him, and how He loved him, 
the tears trickled down his cheeks, and when I asked 
him if he wanted to know Christ, he told me he did, and 
a little boy that was with me got down upon his knees 
and prayed with him; and at night — it was the night 
before the ' ' Fourth " — he went up upon the flat roof, and 
they were firing off cannon and sky-rockets, and there 
upon that roof at midnight, upon the top of that hotel, 
that boy was praying and calling upon God for light, for 
aid and for comfort, and now he is an active Christian 
young man, and superintendent of a Sabbath-school. 
He was taken right up, and he has held on, and he is 
leading others to Christ. There is a work for you. Take 
these children by the hand and lead them to the cross of 
Christ. They can be gathered into our churches, and be 
a blessing to the church of God. 




A gentleman one day 
came to my office for the 
purpose of getting me in- 
terested in a young man 

who had just got out of the penitentiary. "He says," 

said the gentleman, "he don't want to go to the office, 

but I want your permission to bring him in and introduce 

him, and I took him by the hand and told him I was 

glad to see him. I invited him up to my house, and 

when I took him into my 

family, I introduced him as 

a friend. When my little 

daughter came into the 

room, I said, "Emma, this 

is papa's friend." And she 

went up and kissed him, 

and the man sobbed aloud. 

After the child left the 

room, I said, ' ' What is the 

matter?" " O, sir;" he said, "I have not had a kiss for 

years. The last kiss I had was from my mother, and 

she was dying. I thought I would never have another 

one again." His heart was broken. 




233 




A little girl only 
eleven years old 
once came to me 
in a Sunday- 
school, and said, " Won't you please pray that God will 
make me a winner of souls?" I felt so proud of her, and 
my pride was justified, for she has become one of the 
best winners of souls in the country. O, suppose she 
lives threescore years, and goes on winning four or five 
souls every year; at the end of her journey there will be 
three hundred souls on the way to glory. And how long 
will it be before that 
little company swells to 
a great army? Don't 
you see how that little 
mountain rill keeps 
swelling till it carries 
everything before it? 
Little trickling streams 
have run into it, till 
now, a mighty river, it 
has great cities on its 
banks, and the com- 
merce of all nations 
floating on its waters. 
So when a single soul is 
won to Christ you can- 
not see the result. A 




won't you please pray that god will 
make me a winner of souls? 



234 



Moody's child stories. 235 

single one multiplies to a thousand, and that unto ten 
thousand. Perhaps a million shall be the fruit; we can- 
not tell. We only know that the Christian who has 
turned so many to righteousness shall indeed shine ever 
and ever. 



. •■ / 




— The prodigal son -got down very low, but he did not 
get down low enough to beg; he went to work. 

— I've lived nearly forty years, and I've learned one 
thing if I've learned nothing else; that no man or woman 
who treats disrespectfully father or mother ever prospers. 

— The most devoted love on earth is the love of a 
mother for her child; but what is it in comparison to God's 
love? Mothers " may forget, yet I will not forget thee," 
saith the Lord. 

— When I was in England, my little girl said, " Papa, 
why don't those colored folks wash themselves white?" 
You might as well try to make yourselves pure and holy 
without the help of God. 

— Some one has said there were thousands of men in 
that camp who knew that God could use them, but David 
was the only one who believed that God would use him. 
Said David, " Now, I will go." 

236 



Moody's child stories. 237 

— There are three thoughts that I have tried to bring 
out, that God is love; that His love is unchangeable; that 
His love is everlasting. The fourth thought is this, that 
His love is unfailing. Your love is not. 

— A great many people wonder why it is that they 
don't prosper, and are not blessed in the world. It is no 
wonder to me. The wonder is that God blesses them as 
He does. If I had a child in constant rebellion toward 
me, I wouldn't want that child to prosper until that spirit 
of rebellion would be swept away, because prosperity 
would, ruin them. 

— It seems to me after I am dead and gone, I would 
rather have a man come to my grave and drop a tear, 
and say, "Here lies the man who converted me; who 
brought me to the cross of Christ;" it seems to me I would 
rather have this than a column of pure gold reaching to 
the skies, built in my honor. If a man wants to be use- 
ful, follow Christ. 



STORY OF MOODY'S LIFE. 



CHAPTER I. 




FROM A BOYHOOD OF LITTLE PROMISE HE GROWS 
TO BE A POWER. 

Dwight L. Moody was born on a little 
farm back of Northfield, Mass. , Feb. 5, 
1837. There was a large family, and 
the farm alone was not sufficient to 
afford subsistence. The elder Moody 
was forced to help out the small income 

Dwight Lyman Moody, by Working with the trowel when 

building was brisk. He died, leaving a wife and seven 
children on the 28th of May, 18 14. In the morning 
of that day he was at his usual work, but feeling a 
pain in his side, caused by over-exertion, he went home 
to rest. At about one o'clock in the afternoon he felt 
the pain suddenly increasing, staggered to the bed, fell 
upon his knees beside it, and in this posture of prayer 
death seized upon him, before any one knew he was 
seriously ill. 

All that was left to the widow for her support was 
the little home on the mountain side, with an acre or 

238 



story of Moody's life. 239 

two of land ; and even this was encumbered with debt. 
Of her seven children the eldest was but thirteen years of 
age ; and a month after her husband's death another 
boy and girl were born. 

Some of her worldly-wise neighbors advised her to 
give away or bind out her children, all except the twin 
babies ; but this she was determined not to do. God 
had endowed her with unusual strength both of body and 
mind, and, trusting in Him, she bravely lifted her 
burden of poverty and toil, and carried it patiently, 
hopefully, and at length cheerfully, until the little ones 
were able to help her bear it, and at last to fill her hands 
with plenty as they had filled her heart with love and 
care. 

Her brothers, in Boston, helped her to pay the 
interest of the mortgage on her home, the eldest boys 
helped to take care of the little farm, the mother took 
care of the house and children, and God took care of 
them all. 

Somebody has said; "When God wants to make a 
great man he begins by making a great women ;" a re- 
mark eminently true in this case ; for a careful study of 
the two characters will show that the best and strongest 
points about D. L. Moody were plainly enough inherited 
from his mother. 

It may be that a man can come to distinction who 
has a vain selfish woman for his mother. "All things 
are possible with God ;" but in such case, you only need 



240 STORY OF MOODY S LIFE. 

to go a step further back and find that he takes after his 
grandmother. Mrs. Moody belongs to the women of the 
heroic age in America. If she had been born a hundred 
years earlier, there would have been among her sons a 
Warren, or a Putnam. 

She possessed that powerful physical organism by 
means of which the women of New England, in early 
days, were able to endure the toils and hardships of life 
in the wilderness. They helped their husbands to clear 
lands and fight Indians, besides doing their full share of 
work in taking care of the house and raising stalwart 
sons and buxom daughters to fill it. These women 
taught their children to * 'trust in God and fear nothing" 

But the basis of their character was religion ; not 
technical or theological religion, but that binding of soul 
to God which seeks to make him a partner in all busi- 
ness, as well as a hearer of all prayer. With such a 
nature, exercised and sanctified by sorrow, patience, and 
devotion, this women was qualified to be the mother of 
such a son. 

The boyhood of Dwight L. Moody was allied with 
poverty, hard work and at times even hunger. When 
he was old enough to run errands he was given a home 
by a neighboring farmer, who permitted him to attend 
school part of the time. He learned reading, writing 
and ciphering, and much boyish mischief, and had ad- 
mitted that as a boy he excelled in rough and tumble 
fighting. 



story of Moody's life 241 

Aside from a splendid loyalty and love for his widowed 
mother there was nothing in young Moody's boyhood 
career to show any inclination toward piety. Although 
reared in a community near the scene of the famous 
religious awakening under Jonathan Edwards, 100 years 
before, it is not on record that Dwight L. Moody received 
any deep religious impression until he had grown to 
young manhood. As a boy he attended with his mother 
the Unitarian church in his native town. When he was 
17 he picked up a few meager personal belongings and 
leaving home in quest of fortune and fame went to Boston, 
where one of his brothers was a salesman in a small 
shoe store. He had an uncle in the same line of busi- 
ness, and as soon as he entered the city he sought a 
position in his uncle's store. 

Young Moody rebelled against his relative's advice to 
go back to the farm, and finally his uncle took him in 
on condition that his nephew should be governed by his 
advice, and should attend the Sunday school and services 
at Mount Vernon Congregational church. The boy per- 
formed his duties in the store acceptably but for a time 
was careless in religious matters. The orthodox ser- 
mons that he heard from Sunday to Sunday went over 
his head, as he described it. His Sunday school teacher 
had better success with him, and there soon sprang up a 
bond of attachment between teacher and pupil. This 
teacher made a report to the church pastor on young 
Moody's prospecst in the religious life as follows: 



242 STORY OF MOODY'S LIFE. 

' 'He is very unlikely to become a Christian of clear 
and decided views of gospel truth, still less to fill any 
extended sphere of public usefullness." 



In due time young Moody applied for membership 
in the church. The board of deacons questioned him 
on points of doctrine and found him so backward that 
they refused him admission, or at least, advised him to 
wait for six months or a year, until he was better 
grounded in the faith. It was while under this pro- 
bationary discipline that Dwight L. Moody experienced 
the conversion that changed the whole trend of his 
nature and filled him with a passion for doing good to 
others that became the guiding star of his life. 

One day he went into the church of Dr. Kirk, a 
Congregational minister in Boston, and for the first time 
listened to an evangelical sermon. It had the effect of 
making him uncomfortable and he resolved not to go 
back. He felt that his heart had been laid bare and he 
wondered who had told the preacher about him. Some- 
thing induced him to go back the next Sunday, however, 
and the impression was renewed. His Sunday school 
teacher in the meantime had come to see young Moody 
at his place of business, and it was during a talk with 
this friend that he entered into the assurance of faith 
which was destined to make him a world power as a 
preacher and evangelist. At the end of twelve months 



story of Moody's life. 243 

from his first application his name went upon the 
membership roll of the church. 



His business career in Boston seemed destined to be 
a failure and young Moody resolved to go to New York. 
He had no money and walked. In New York he again 
failed to secure a foothold, and began to dream of the 
west. 

He came to Chicago and soon was earning a good 
salary as a shoe salesman. It is said that he could sell 
more shoes than any two clerks in the store. One of 
his fellow clerks at this perion says of Moody: "He 
would never sit down in the store to chat or read the 
paper, as other clerks did when there were no customers, 
but as soon as he had served one buyer he was on the 
look-out for another. If none appeared, he would start 
off to the hotels or depots or walk the streets in search 
of one." 



Mr. Moody's religious tendencies were even then 
exerting a strong influence upon him. He became a 
puritan in spirit, and eschewed the theater, billiards, cards 
and dances as the enticements of the devil. He organized 
a debating society among his fellow clerks and night 
after night the young men debated foreordination versus 
free will and the slavery problem. Mr. Moody had 
joined the Plymouth Congregational church on the south 
side by letter, He started trouble in that aristocratic 



244 story of Moody's life. 

congregation at once. He was filled with the desire to 
exhort and pray and would not be silenced. He hired 
four pews in the church and attempted to fill them with 
young men. He next applied for a place as teacher in 
the Sunday school, but was informed that pupils were 
needed more than teachers. The following * Sunday 
young Moody appeared with eighteen ragged urchins 
from the streets. 



Moody continued to bring recruits into the Sunday 

school, and as soon as a class was organized he handed 

it over to another teacher and started out after more, 

keeping on untill he had filled the school. Still the field 

did not satisfy him and he allied himself with one of the 

smaller Methdist churches, where he had a freer hand 

and was allowed to exercise evangelizing methods to the 

full. He conceived the idea of founding an independent 

mission on the north side and rented a deserted saloon 

building in Market street in the locality known as ' 'Little 

Hell." The first collection of boys he picked off the 

streets for a Sunday school class was a wonder. There 

was not a pair of shoes in the lot. The roll of names 

that the youngsters gave him to hand to the secreary 

contained the following : 

Red Eye Darby the Cobbler 

Smikes Billy Bucktooth 

Greenhorn Madden the Butcher 

Indian J ac ky Candles 

Black Stove Pipe Old Man 

Billy Blucannon Rag Breeches Cadet 



story of Moody's life. 245 

The new mission was no sooner started than Mr. 
Moody began digging in another of the city's slums. At. 
the foot of the Lake Shore drive there was an ante^fire 
moral purlieu known as "The Sands," which was said 
to be worse than "Five Points" in New York or "Saint 
Giles" in London. Crime was common and less open 
than in "Little Hell." It was murder after nightfall and 
debauchery in daylight. When Moody went into this 
slum to drum up pupils for his mission he was hissed, 
derided and threatened. He thrived on opposition and 
bribed the little children with sweets and trinkets to 
come to his school. He won the gutter-snipe children 
first and then the men and women began coming to hear 
him preach. 



In a few months he had the biggest congregation on 
the north side. Mayor Haines took an interest in the 
work and granted Moody permission to take his "Sands" 
congregation into the hall over the old North market. 
The hall was generally used for a dance Saturday nights 
and there were no chairs. Early Sunday mornings 
Moody would sweep out the sawdust and scrub up the 
tobacco and beer. He elected himself a finance com- 
mitee to get some chairs. He went to John V. Farwell 
for help. Mr. Farwell went to the hall and found the 
school leaning up against the walls. He talked to the 
urchins and when he had finished Mr. Moody nominated 
him for superintendent of the North Market Sunday 



246 story of Moody's life. 

school. He was elected, and from that time on the dry 
goods merchant helped Moody's work with his purse. 

The "Little Hell" and the "Sands" Sunday school 
jumped from a membership of 150 to 1,000. Mr. Moody 
distributed sugar and provisions and Mr. Farwell brought 
clothing. The north side ministers began to protest that 
the work Was irregular and interfered with the established 
Sunday schools. But it grew and prospered. For six 
years the North Market Sunday school was a power in 
the north side slums and was constantly adding depart- 
ments for education and usefulness. 

It is related that Moody at this period was often in 
danger of his life. He was chased by denizens of the 
slums. Once he was caught by a man whose wife had 
been persuaded to emty a jug of whisky into the street. 
There were a dozen desperadoes around him. He begged 
for a chance to pray before he should be killed. Telling 
of it afterward, Moody said that when he dropped on 
his knees he prayed harder than he ever did before. 
The crowd that was clamoring for his life was softened 
and in twenty minutes he was allowed to go to his Sun- 
day school and a large portion of the mob followed him, 
the leader, the man whose whisky had been wasted, 
afterward became a teacher in the school. 



CHAPTER II. 



INCIDENTS IN MR. MOODY S EARLY SUNDAY SCHOOL 
WORK IN CHICAGO. 



It was in the old North Market hall that President 
Lincoln made his first and only Sunday school address. 
Mr. Lincoln was in the city and Mr. Farwell conceived 
the idea that the ragged children would be pleased with 
a talk by the president. Mr. Lincoln was adverse to 
going, but finally consented. Mr. Farwell introduced 
the president of the United States to the motley crowd 
and said he would talk to them if they would take off 
their hats and be quiet. President Lincoln made a plain, 
old-fasioned address. ■ Fort Sumter was fired on a few 
months later and it is related that sixty of the unruly 
big boys of the school went to the front in response to 
Lincoln's first call for soldiers. 



At a jubilee held in an old rookery opposite Market 
Hall, on a certain thanksgiving night. The "old 
rookery" was none other than the ex-saloon, now 
Moody's prayer-room, a most forlorn and wretched place, 
dimly lighted, and with no fire, where thirty or forty 

247 



248 STORY OF MOLDY'S LIFE. 

children had assembled to hold a jubilee ; every one 
of them bearing marks of poverty, if not of actual want. 

Moody had appointed a kind of love-feast, at which 
every one was to tell what he was most thankful for. 

One little fellow, who had no other relative in the 
world but a decrepit old grandfather, with whom he 
lived in the greatest poverty, had become a Christian 
some time before, and, like others of the children, was 
trying to do a little home-missionary work on his own 
account. When his turn came to tell what he was most 
thankful for, he said, — 

"There was that big fel3ow, 'Butcher Kilroy,' who 
acted so bad that nobody would have him, and he had 
to be turned out of one class after another, till I was 
afraid he would be turned out of the school. It took 
me a long time to get him to come, and I begged for 
him to stay. I used to pray to Jesus every day to give 
him a new heart, and I felt pretty sure He would if we 
didn't turn him out. By- and- by Butcher Kilroy began 
to want to be a Christian, and now he is converted ; and 
that is what makes this Thanksgiving the happiest one 
in all my life." 

Another desperate case, of a boy they found on The 
Sands. He was a sort of chief of a gang of gutter-snipes^ 
who, partly because they admired him and partly be- 
cause they were afraid of him, allowed hirh to be a per- 
fect tyrant over them. It was a long time before they 
could get near enough to this young ruffian to speak to 



story of Moody's life. 249 

him; but even he at last was caught with the missionary 
sugar, and invited to come to the mission school. 

It was a cold day in February ; but the only garment 
he had was a man's old overcoat, so ragged that it had 
to be stitched together around his body, giving him the 
appearance of being sewed up in a great dirty bag. 
A big pair of shoes, and papers wrapped around his legs, 
completed his winter costume. In this outfit he made 
his appearance on Sunday, at the door of the North 
Market School. Moody catching sight of him, gave 
him his hand, pulled him in, and, marching with him 
the whole length of the room, gave him a place in a 
class, with the same kindness and attention he would 
have shown to the best dressed boy on the North Side. 

At sight of this wretched waif, a stranger visiting the 
school was moved to tears. After the exercises were 
over, he took him to his house, and gave him a full suit 
of clothes belonging to his own son. 

The wild lad, thus civilized in appearance, continued 
to attend the school ; and at length, one by one, brought 
all his followers with him. That lad is now a Christian 
gentleman, in receipt of a large salary, and super- 
intendent of a Sunday school in one of our large cities. 

Many were the exciting scenes through which Moody 
passed, as month after month he continued the work 
of visitation. Sometime he was shamefully treated; 
and on more than one occasion he was actually in danger 



±$o story of Moody's life. 

of becoming a martyr to the cause. One Sunday 
morning he was visiting families for the purpose of 
bringing their children to his school, when a powerful 
man, who had sworn to kill him, sprang upon him with 
a heavy club, before he knew he was in danger. It was 
a run for dear life. The Sands were in an uproar. Some 
cheered on their man, knowing if he caught him it would 
be all over with him ; while those who were friendly 
dared not come to his rescue, for fear of his wrathful 
pursuer. But it was all lost labor, to drive Moody away 
from a place where there were any children whom he 
felt ought to come to his school. On this occasion, as 
on Others, he escaped by being very swift-footed , but 
he was sore pressed by his enemy, who seemed really in 
hopes of putting an end to his labors by putting an end 
to his life. Not at all discouraged, he went back the 
next Sunday, and kept on going again and again, till at 
last his gentleness and patience disarmed his adversary, 
who gave him no further trouble. 

In his explorations one Saturday evening, he found a 
jug of whisky in a house, which the men had brought 
home to drink next day. They were all away from 
home ; but Moody gave the women a rousing temperance 
lecture, and persuaded them to let him emty the whisky 
into the street. Early on Sunday afternoon he returned, 
as he had promised, to take the children with him whom 
the women had consented to send to his school. But 
the men of the house were lying in wajt to give him a 



story of Moody's life. 251 

pounding. He had touched them at a tender point, and 
they thirsted for revenge. The situation was desperate. 
One of them had stepped between him and the door be- 
fore he was aware of it, and all were about to pounce 
upon him, when Moody arrested proceedings on this 
wise, — 

"See here, now, my men, if you are going to whip 
me for spilling the whisky, you might at least give me 
time to say my prayers." 

So unusal a proposal attracted their attention, and 
they agreed to let him pray before they thrashed him, 
thinking it would add just so much to their sport. Moody 
at once dropped upon his knees and began to pray. Such 
praying these rough fellows had never heard. At first 
they were astonished, then they were interested, then 
they were softened ; and when he had finished his prayer 
they gathered around him, gave him their hands, de- 
clared he was a good fellow, — and in a few minutes 
Moody was triumphantly marching towards the North 
Market Hall, with all the children of the house at his 
heels. 

No class of persons was neglected, except those who 
had no need of attention. The great majority of those 
people, whatever other qualifications they lacked for 
being saved, had at least this one — they were sinners. 
The worst as well as the best who came to the great 
school, or the little prayer-meeting, found Mr. Moody, 



252 STORY OF MOODY'S LIFE. 

or some of his workers, holding the door open for them, 
and inviting them to enter the kingdom of heaven. 

No matter how repulsive the person might be, 
Moody was always ready to help him ; he seemed to 
take the most interest in those who were most wretched 
and needy. Instances enough to fill volumes might be 
given of his successful work for those who had always 
been considered beyond the reach of grace and salvation. 

Among the worst places in the field was a sailors 
boarding-house, which was continually haunted by a 
rough, quarrelsome crowd. This place, vile and danger- 
ous to the last degree, Moody and his friend ventured to 
enter. They were set upon, and threatened with broken 
heads if they did not leave immediately ; but remember- 
ing that "a soft answer turneth away wrath, " they gently 
replied that they meant no harm, and, as proof of their 
kind intentions, offered to sing a song. This task, of 
course, fell to the lot of his friend; for Moody never could 
sing a note ; and he immediately struck up the hymn 
commencing — 

"O how happy are they 
Who the Savior obey, 
And have laid up their treasures above !" 

The crowd listened to the singing with evident enjoy- 
ment ; it was better singing than they were accustomed 
to. When the hymn was finished, Moody followed 
with prayer. From that day they were privileged 
characters in that house* and were held in high respect 



STORY OF MOODY'S LIFE. 253 

by all the inmates. They captured the children of the 
keeper of the den for the North Market Mission, — every 
one of whom was afterwards brought to Christ. 

It was not often that their visits to saloons resulted 
so favorably as in the following case. Going into a 
drinking den one Saturday night, when the carousal was 
at its highest, they asked permission to leave some re- 
ligious papers for the men who were drinking at the 
little tables around the room. This being done, they 
entered into conversation with the keeper of the place, 
and presently drew out the fact that his parents were 
Christian people. The question instantly followed, 
"Do they know you are selling liquor?" 

The man hesitated, and seemed deeply affected. 
They gave him a kindly word, and then bade him good- 
night. But they had not gone far before one said to 
the other, — 

"We have neglected our duty ; let us go back and 
pray with that man." 

They immediately turned back, re-entered the saloon, 
begged the keeper's pardon for having neglected to pray 
with him, and, kneeling there in the sawdust, Moody 
offered a prayer which seemed the direct inspiration of 
the Holy Ghost. Mr. Moody's friend says, — 

"I never heard Moody pray like that before ; it 
seemed as if the baptism of the Holy One was upon 
him." 

Two weeks afterwards one of them met the man in 



254 story of Moody's life. 

the street, who informed him that he had given up the 
saloon business, had left off drinking, and would die in 
the poor-house rather than sell any more liquor. 

The most miserable of the many wretched families 
they met in all their visitation was one which they found 
one Sunday morning in an attic. The husband, who 
was just on the verge of delirium tremens, had become 
half idiotic from drink, while the wife and children were 
half dead from starvation. The first thing done was to 
give them something to eat. Next they held a temper- 
ance meeting, and persuaded the man to sign the pledge, 
a copy of which they usually carried with them ; and by 
way of impressing it upon his stupid senses, they made 
him kneel down and place his hand upon the pledge, 
while they prayed to God to give him strenth to keep it. 
The next Sunday the whole family, decently clad, came 
to the mission school. 

An evening or two afterwards, passing by the same 

house, the man hailed them from his attic window, and 

threw them down a piece of silver, saying "I believe in 
that Sunday school, and I want to take a little stock 

in it." 

On Mr. Moody's friend returning to Chicago, six years 
afterwards, he was saluted by a gentlemanly stranger, who 
proved to be none other than the poor man who had 
thrown the money out of the attic window — now a 
prosperous man of business, with a beautiful home of 



story of Moody's life. 255 

his own, and himself a leading member in a thriving 
church. 

One of Moody's strong points was his ability to keep 
every one around him hard at work. His method may 
be described in a single word — leadership. He was not 
skillful in giving minute directions, but he was always 
ahead, and they learned to follow him, and to do as he 
did. He was as ready to go down, as to go up, to find 
and save a sinner ; indeed, he was always ready to go 
anywhere or do anything which gave promise of such a 
result. It was impossible to be with him and not feel 
the contagion of his energy and faith. Scholars as well 
as teachers caught it from him, and began to be mission- 
aries on their own account, searching out and bringing 
in new scholars, and keeping the enthusiasm of the 
school always at fever heat. 

Prizes were sometimes offered for the largest number 
of new scholars brought in. On one occasion he pre- 
sented the most successful young missionary with a pet 
lamb, — a somewhat unusual gift of a Sunday school, 
but one which served as a striking and valuable object- 
lesson, which Moody was not slow to use. 

Among the band of young converts, which all the 
time increased around him, was a little girl, whose 
father owned a smaal vessel, with which he freighted 
lumber. Having given her own heart to the Savior, she 
tried to persuade her father to do the same. But he 
was a man having no taste for religion, though he was 



2 $6 story of Moody's life. 

very fond of the child — whom he took with him on a 
certain voyage, during which she tried in vain to establish 
a prayer- meeting in the little cabin, an to convert some 
of the crew. On arriving at the lumber camp, this little 
missionary commenced a Sunday-school, as nearly as 
possible like the North Market Mission. Not content 
with this, and hearing of another encampment of wood- 
cutters similar to their own, she opened a second school 
among them also. During the severe northern winter 
she presided personally over both these institutions ; 
riding on horseback through the woods every Sabbath, 
after the manner of the early Methodist pioneers. 

It may be supposed that these two schools in the 
woods were of a very simple character, since the little 
girl herself was the entire force of officers and teachers ; 
and all the library and literature in use among them was 
her own little copy of the New Testament. The results 
of her labor cannot now be given ; but it is easy to 
imagine the tender interest with which those rough 
woodsmen sat at the feet of their child-missionary, 
charmed by her Christian courage, and cheered by her 
simple faith. 

The lumber season being over, the little vessel 
started for Chicago. During the voyage a terrfble storm 
arose, disabling the craft, and driving her rapidly to- 
ward a lee shore. The crew being completely exhausted, 
and expecting in a few minutes to be drowned, begged 
the little girl to pray for them, — which she did, with the 



story of Moody's life. 257 

greatest composure. When she had told the good Lord 

all about them, and asked Him to take them out of 
their danger, if He thought best, and, above all things, 

to forgive their sins and make them ready for heaven, 

she began, in a clear, sweet voice, to sing that little 

Sunday-school hymn, — 

"We are joyously voyaging over the main, 
Bound for the evergreen shore." 

With the song new strength and hope seemed to 
come to the arms and hearts of the crew ; and renewing 
their efforts to v/eather the point which threatened their 
destruction, and aided, perhaps, by some slight change 
in the wind or abatement of the storm, the little craft 
weathered the rocks of the headland close enough to 
toss a biscuit ashore, and then swung out safely on the 
open course for home. 

To keep such assembly in order was of course im- 
possible ; though a degree of confusion which would have 
been fatal to an ordinary Sunday-school was no serious 
objection here. But sometimes a wild young barbarian 
would make his appearance, defying all authority, and 
actually disturbing the meeting ! 

There was one big fellow in particular who insisted 
on bringing his street manners into the schoolroom. 
All kinds of moral suasion seemed to be wasted on him. 
He was too big to be frightened, and too ignorant to be 
ashamed. After bearing with him for a long time, 
during which he continued to grow worse instead of 



258 story of Moody's life. 

better, Moody and his friends began to fear that they 
had at last found one boy for whom nothing could be 
done. A great many evil spirits had been cast out by 
the influence of that school, but this one seemed de- 
termined to stay. To turn a scholar away as hopelessly 
bad would be a disgraceful confession of failure ; besides, 
it was contrary to all their ideas of the Gospel to shut 
this young ruffian out from the means of grace, when 
he was in such evident need of them. 

A solemn council was held one Sunday, but no one 
could think of any new method of reaching this desperate 
case. All the week it lay heavy on Moody's mind. The 
next Sabbath the big fellow appeared, more uproarious 
thon ever ; — there was actual danger of his breaking up 
the school. 

On this memorable day Mr. Moody determined to 
try the last remedy. His ample physical endowment 
for missionary work has already been mentioned, — of 
which on this day he made a very effective use. Coming 
suddenly upon the fellow, in the middle of the crowded 
hall, he seized him with both hands, fairly lifted him off 
legs, carried him into a little ante-room, locked the door, 
and proceeded to apply the treatment recommended by 
Solomon. This was by no means an easy task, for the 
culprit was as strong and active and savage as a wolf. 
The noise of the struggle awakened the most lively 
interest of the school, and by way of diversion Mr. 
Farwell started a song. Thus on the two sides of that 



story of Moody's life. 259 

bolted door two widely different means of grace were in 
simultaneous operation. 

In due course of time Moody and his pupil emerged 
from the ante-room, both greatly flushed, and one com- 
pletely subdued. 

' 'It was hard work," said Moody; "but I think we 
have saved him." 

Mr. Farwell met this very boy, now grown to a man, 
at the noon prayer-meeting. They recognised each 
other, and heartily agreed that Moody was right in 
applying desperate remedies for desperate diseases. 

After that his school was no more disturbed by such 
ruffians. He had shown a new claim to their admiration 
and respect. Order thus enforced became sacred in the 
opinion of all. 

A lad — the one nicknamed "Indian" — coming into 
the school one day, found a raw recruit sitting with his 
cap on. Instantly he drew it off, and hit the offender a 
blow between the eyes which laid him sprawling on the 
floor. "I'll learn you better than to wear your hat in 
this school," said he ; and then he passed quietly to his 
place, feeling the high satisfaction of having done his 
duty. 

One of Moody's friends reported a family to him 
where there were several children who were "due" at 
the North Market School, but whose father was a 
notorious infidel rum-seller, and would not let them 
come. 



26o STORY OF MOODY'S LIFE. 

The missionary at once called upon him ; but as soon 
as he made known his errand he was obliged to "get 
out of that place" very quickly, in order to save his 
head. Again and again he called, only to be driven 
away with curses and blasphemies. "I would rather 
my son should be a thief, and my daughter a harlot, 
than have you make fools and Christians of them over 
there at your Sunday-school," said the desperate man. 
But still Moody would not give up the case. 

One day, finding the man in a little better humor 
than usual, he asked him if he had ever read the New 
Testament, — to which the publican replied that he had 
not, and on his part inquired if Moody had ever read 
Paine's "Age of Reason. " Finding he had never done 
so, the man proposed to read the Testament if he would 
read the "Age of Reason." To this Moody at once 
agreed. 

"He had the best of the bargain ; but it gave me a 
chance to call again to bring him the book," said Moody. 

After wading through that mass of infidel abomi- 
nations, he called on the publican again, to see how he 
got on with the Testament ; but found him full of ob- 
jections and hot for debate. 

"See here, young man," said he ; "you are inviting 
me and my family to go to meeting : now you may have 
a meeting here if yo like." 

"What ! will you let me preach here in your saloon?" 

"Yes." 



story of Moody's life. 261 

' 'And will you bring in your family, and let me bring 
in the neighbors ?" 

"Yes. But mind, you are not to do all the talking. 
I and my friends will have something to say." 

"All right. You shall have forty-five minutes, and 
I will have fifteen." 

The time for the meeting was set, but when Moody 
reached the place he found that the company had re- 
moved to a larger house in the neighborhood, where a 
crowd of atheists, blasphemers, and wild characters in 
great variety, were waiting for a chance to make mince- 
meat of the young missionary, and use up the New 
Testament for ever. 

"You shall begin," said Moody. 

Upon this they began to ask him questions. 

"No questions 1" said he. "I haven't come to argue 
with you, but to preach Christ to you. Go on and say 
what you like, and then I will speak." 

Then they began to talk among themselves ; but it 
was not long before they quarrelled over their own 
different unbeliefs, so that what began as a debate was 
in danger of ending in a fight. 

"Order ! Your time is up," said Moody. "I am in 
the habit of beginning my addresses with prayer. Let 
us pray." 

"Stop! stop!" said one. "There's no use in your 
praying. Besides, your Bible says there must be 'two 



262 STORY OF MOODY'S LIFE. 

agreed' if there is to be any praying ; and you are 
all alone," 

Without attempting to correct this false quotation, 
Moody replied that perhaps some of them might feel 
like praying before he got through ; and so he opened his 
heart to God. 

When he had finished, a little boy who had been 
converted in the Mission School, and had come with his 
friend to this strange meeting, began to pray. His 
childish voice and simple faith at once attracted the 
closest attention. As he went on telling the Lord all 
about those wicked men, and begging Him to help them 
to believe in Jesus Christ, the Holy Ghost fell upon the 
assembly. A great solemnity came over those hard- 
hearted infidels and scoffers ; there was not a dry eye in 
the room. Pretty soon they began to be frightened. 
They rushed out, some by one door and some by the 
other — did not stop to hear a word of the sermon, but 
fled from the place as if it had been haunted. 

As a result of this meeting, Moody captured all the 
old infidel's children for his Sunday-school ; and, a little 
while after, the man himself stood up in the noonday 
prayer-meeting, and begged them to pray for his miser- 
able soul. 

Striking out in all directions, taking no thought of 
the prejudices or passions of those he met, but urging 
them all to come at once to Christ, and to the North 
Market Mission, it was impossible but that he should 



story of Moody's life. 263 

make a good many enemies. One old woman, whose 
children he was inviting to his Sunday-school, seized a 
batcher's knife and rushed out to kill him. But he 
easily got away. 

Three ruffians, who had threatened him with a beat- 
ing, came into his prayer-room one night just after the 
meeting was over, when there was no one present but 
himself and a. lad. Knowing their errand, he invited 
them to sit down till he had gathered up his hymnbooks 
and Testaments, at the same time motioning the lad to 
leave. 

Unlike his first place of meeting, this room was 
lighted with gas, a single jet of which was burning. 
Towards this he made his way, picking up his books as 
he went along ; and then, as quick as a flash, he turned 
out the light, sprang over the benches in the darkness, 
and was off before his enemies suspected his design. 

Such slight annoyances as these, however, soon 
ceased to disturb his mind. He became accustomed to 
them. But what did really worry him was the boys 
disturbing his meetings and breaking the windows of the 
place in which they were held. 

When the strain on his patience came to be too 
severe, Moody determined to strike at the root of the 
matter ; and accordingly went to Bishop Duggan, the 
Romish prelate of Chicago, and laid his grievance be- 
fore him. He told the bishop that he was trying to do 
good, in a part of the city which everybody else had neg- 



264 story of Moody's life. 

lected ; and that it was a shame that the members of the 
bishop's church should break the windows of his school- 
room. 

The zeal and boldness of the man surprised and de- 
lighted the bishop ; who promised that the lambs of his 
flock should hereafter be duly restrained. Moody, thus 
encouraged, went on to say that he often came upon 
sick people who were Roman Catholics ; he should be 
very glad to pray with them and relieve them, but they 
vere so suspicious of him that they would not allow him 
to come near them. Now, if the bishop would give him 
a good word to those people, it would help him amazing- 
ly in his work of charity. 

Such a request from a heretical Protestant was 
probably never made of a Catholic bishop before. But 
he very kindly replied that he should be most happy to 
give the recommendation if Mr. Moody would only join 
the Catholic Church ; telling him at the same time he 
seemed to be too good and valuable a man to be a 
heretic. 

"I am afraid that would hinder me in my work 
among the Protestants," said Moody. 

"Not at all," answered the bishop. 

"What ! do you mean to say that I could go to the 
noon prayer-meeting, and pray with all kinds of Christian 
people — Baptists, Methodists, Presbyterians, all together 
— just as I do now ?" 



story of Moody's life. 265 

' 'Oh yes," replied the bishop ; "if it were necessary, 
you might do that." 

"So, then, Protestants and Catholics can pray 

together, can they ?" 

"Yes." 

"Well, bishop, this is a very important matter, and 
ought to be aitended to at once. No man wants to be- 
long to the true Church more than I do. I wish you 
would pray for me right here, that God would show me 
His true Church, and help me to be a worthy member 
of it." 

Of course the prelate could not refuse ; so they 
kneeled down together ; and the bishop prayed very 
lovingly for the heretic, and when he had finished, the 
heretic began to pray for the bishop. 

From that day to the day of his death Bishop Duggan 
and Mr. Moody were good friends. The bishop made 
no progress in converting him, it is true ; but he stopped 
his wild young parishioners from breaking the prayer- 
room windows ; and if only Moody would have joined 
the Church of Rome there is no telling to what high 
dignities he might have come ! 

This incident was published recently in London, and 
a Catholic priest who read it called on Mr. Moody, and 
actually labored with him for a long time, with the ut- 
most zeal and earnestness, in the hope that he might be 
persuaded into the Church of Peter and Mary. 



266 story of Moody's life. 

4 'If you would only join the true Church," said the 
priest, "you would be the greatest man in England." 

But, as may easily be supposed, this kind of argu- 
ment made no impressiod upon a man who is more 
honored in bringing thousands of lost sinners to Christ 
than he would be by a seat in the chair af St. Peter 
himself. 

Mr. Moody had frequently been asked how he came 
to give up mercantile life, in which his prospect for 
success were so promising. He invariably made this 
reply: "The way God led me out of business into 
Christian work was as follows: 

"I had never lost sight of Jesus Chrst since the first 
night I met him in the store at Boston. But for years 
I was only a nominal Christian, really believing that I 
could not work for God. No one had ever asked me to 
do anything. 

"When I went to Chicago I hired five pews in a 
church, and used to go out on the street and pick up 
young men and fill these pews. I never spoke to those 
young men about their souls ; that was the work of the 
elders I thought. 

"After working for some time like that, I started a 
mission Sabbath school. I thought numbers were every- 
thing, and so I worked for numbers. When the at- 
teudance ran below 1.000 it troubled me ; and when it 
ran to 1.200 or 1. 500 I was elated. Still none was con- 
verted ; there was no harvest. 



story of Moody's life. 267 

"Then God opened my eyes. There was a class of 
young ladies in the school, who were without exception 
the most frivoluous set of girls I ever met. One Sunday 
the teacher was ill and I took that class. They laughed 
in my face, and I felt like opening the door and telling 
them all to get out and never come back. 

"That week the teacher of the class came into the 
store where I worked. He was pale and looked very ill. 

"What is the trouble ?" I asked. 

"I have had another hemorrhage of my lungs. The 
doctor says I cannot live on Lake Michigan, so I 
am going to New York State. I suppose I am going 
home to die." 'He seemed greatly troubled, and when I 
asked him the reason he replied : "Well, I have never 
led any of my class to Christ. I really believe I have 
done the girls more harm than good." 

"I had never heard anyone talk like that before, and 
it set me thinking. After a while I said: "Supose you 
go and tell them how you feel. I will go with you in a 
carriage, if you want to go." He consented, and we 
started out together. It was one of the best journeys I 
ever had on earth. We went to the house of one of the 
girls, called for her, and the teacher talked to her about 
her soul. There was no laughing then ! Tears stood in 
her eyes before long. After he had explained the way 
of life he suggested that we have prayer. He asked me 
to pray. True, I had never done such a thing in my 



268 story of Moody's life. 

life as to pray God to convert a young lady there and 
then. But we prayed, and God answered our prayer. 

"We went to other houses. He would go upstairs 
and be all out of breath, and he would tell the girls 
what he had come for. It wasn't long before they 
broke down and sought salvation. When his strength 
gave out I took him back to his lodgings. The next day 
we went out again. At the end of ten days he came to 
the store with his face literally shining. 

"Mr. Moody," he said, "the last one of my class has 
yielded herself to Christ. " I tell you we had a time of 
rejoicing. He had to leave the next night, so I called 
his class together that night for a prayer meeting, and 
there God kindled a fire in my soul that has never gone 
out. The height of my ambition had been to be a suc- 
cessful! merchant, and if I had known that meeting was 
going to take that ambition out of me I might not have 
gone. But how many times I have thanked God since 
for that meeting ! 

"The dying teacher sat in the midst of his class and 
talked with them, and read the fourteenth chapter of 
John. We tried to sing "Blest be the tie that binds," 
after which we knelt down to prayer. I was just rising 
from my knees when one of the class began to pray for 
her dying teacher. Another prayed, and another, and 
before we rose the whole class had prayed. As I went 
out I said to myself: "O God, let me die rather than 
lose the blessing I have received to-night." 



story of Moody's liee. 269 

' 'The next evening I went to the depot to say good- 
by to that teacher. Just before the train started one of 
the class came, and before long, without any prearrange- 
ment, they were all there. What a meeting that was ! 
We tried to sing, but we broke down. The last we saw 
of that dying teacher he was standing on the platform of 
the car, his ringer pointing upward, telling that class to 
meet him in heaven. 

"I didn't know what this was going to cost me. I 
was disqualified for business ; it had become distasteful 
to me. I had got a taste of another world, and cared 
no more for making money. For some days after the 
greatest struggle of my life took place. Should I give 
up business and give myself to Christian work or should 
I not ? I have never regretted my choice. Oh, the 
luxury of leading same one out of the darkness of this 
world into the glorious light and liberty of the gospel. " 



■:o: 



CHAPTER III. 



MR. MOODY AND THE YOUNG MENS CHRISTION ASSOCI- 
ATION. CAMP AND FIELD. 



The great revival of 1857-58 led to organizing the 
Young Men's Christian Association of Chicago. 

Its first important work was the establishment of a 



270 STORY OF MOODY'S LIFE. 

daily noon prayer-meeting, which, during the winter and 
spring, was very well attended. But after a while the 
impetus was lost, and the meetings grew smaller and 
smaller, till at last they seemed likely to die. From the 
first Moody had made himself conspicuous in these 
meetings by his blunt manners and bold attacks upon 
fashionable sins, such as tippling the use of tobacco, 
going to the theatre, playing billiards, and other loaferish 
games. He was very severe against professors of relgion 
who wish to enjoy as many pleasures of sin as possible, 
without spoiling their hopes of heaven — Christians who 
are so nearly like the people of the world that, except 
on Sunday, it is very hard to tell the difference. 

On this account he came to be looked upon with 
disfavor. Many sensitive people left off attending the 
noon prayer-meeting for fear of this bold brother, in 
whose eyes sin was sin wherever it might be found, and 
who was so insensible to the dignities of wealth, fashion, 
station, and age, that no offender was safe from being 
held up on the point of his spear. 

But Moody, having once put his hand to the plough, 
he never looked back. Therefore the coldness of some 
of his brethren produced no discouragement in his mind. 
A man who had achieved such success in the North 
Market Mission, which had been started against the ad- 
vice of every clergyman in the neighborhood, was not 
likely to be troubled by criticisms. 

The waning interest in the noon .prayer-meeting 



story of Moody's life. 271 

roused him to new efforts on its behalf. When the 
attendance fell to half a dozen he was one of the six ; 
and when there were but three he was one of the three. 

One day, all brethren being out of town, nobody 
went to the prayer-meeting but one old Scotch woman. 
This excellent person set great store by the noon meet- 
ing, and, when no one else appeared, she determined to 
hold it herself rather than have it fail even for a single 
day. So, after waiting a long time, she put on her 
spectacles, went forward to the leader's desk, read a 
passage of Scripture, talked it over to herself, for the 
comfort of her old heart, and then offered prayer for the 
languishing meeting, and for the outpouring of the Holy 
Spirit upon it, and upon the city. Prayer being ended, 
she sung a psalm, and, the time having thus been all 
improved, she went comfortably home, feeling that she 
had done her duty, gained a blessing, and saved the noon 
prayer-meeting from utter exstinction. 

On relating her solitary experience, some of the 
brethren were deeply impressed by it. Mr. Moody at 
once set about the business of bringing in recruits ; and 
so well did he succeed, that very soon there was a large 
and regular attendance, and the meeting began to be 
marked with the presence of the Spirit of the Lord. 

Recognising his pre-eminent ability, the Young Men's 
Christian Association had appointed him Chairman of 
the Visiting Committee to the sick and to strangers. In 
the duties of this office he scoured the city in all di- 



272 story of Moody's life. 

rections ; and very soon Moody and his pony became a 
familiar sight, especially in the regions of The Sands, 
the Association Rooms, and the North Market Hall. An 
old resident on the North Side, who was familiar with 
him in those days, declares that he would chase the wild 
small-fry up the streets and down the alleys, and, after 
a Sunday morning's search for new scholars, would 
emerge from some dirty lane, or court, his pony literally 
covered with ragged urchins, followed by others of the 
same sort, holding on by the tail, caching by the stirrups, 
or clinging to each other's rags ; and these he mould 
march in grand procession down the North Marked Sun- 
day School. 

The increasing attendance at the noon prayer-meeting 
had occasioned its removal to a large back room, in the 
Methodist Church block. To this place Moody removed 
his residence, — that is, removed himself. Having no 
longer any money, he determined fully to test the 
question whether God would really take care of him in 
his new work. At length he was brought to the necessity 
of sleeping on the benches of the prayer-room, and 
living on crackers and cheese. But he kept on with his 
work all the same. He collected considerable sums of 
money for the poor, and for the various works of charity 
and religion carried on by the Association ; but he would 
not use a penny of it for himself, because not given for 
that specific purpose. 

Presently, without a word from him, some of his 



story of Moody's life. 273 

friends began to wonder how he was living ; and, finding 
out the poverty of his bed and board, they insisted on 
supplying him with abundant comforts of life. 

His zeal and devotion were the life and hope of the 
Association ; but he shocked the nice sense of propriety 
of some of these gentlemen by carrying its work among 
a class oi people who had hitherto been neglected, under 
the impression that its proper line of effort was among 
the higher classes of young men. 

' 'Under Moody's leadership the Young Men's Christian 
Association became, like the North Market Mission, a 
free and popular institution, — extending its influence to 
all classes of society, and bringing the cultured and 
wealthy to the assistance of the ignorant and the poor. 

At the breaking out of the war, in 1861, the de- 
votional committee of the Young Men's Christian Associ- 
ation, of which Mr. Moody was chairman, found a new 
line of work made ready to their hands. On the arrival 
of the first regiment, ordered to Camp Douglas for in- 
struction, the committee was on the ground, and before 
the tents were fairly pitched a camp prayer-meeting was 
in progress. 

It was a matter of no little surprise and joy to the 
soldiers, many of whom had come from churches, Sun- 
day-schools, and Christian homes, to hear themselves 
saluted in the name of Christ almost before they could 
stack their arms, and to have the very first tent which 
was pitched in their camp put to its first use as a place 



274 story of Moody's life. 

for prayer. Christian zeal kept pace with patriotism. 
Mr. Moody and his committee were obliged to call for 
help ; a hundred and fifty clergymen and laymen 
promptly responded to the call. Every evening eight or 
ten meetings were held in different camps ; and an al- 
most continued service, within reach of every regiment, 
on the Sabbath. Over fifteen hundred of these services 
were held in and around Chicago by the Association 
during the war. 

In these meetings Mr. Moody seemed almost ubiqui- 
tous ; he would hasten from one barrack and camp to 
another, day and night, week-days and Sundays, 
praying, exhorting, conversing personally with the men 
about their souls, and revelling in the abundant work 
and swift success which the war had brought within his 
reach. 

The chapel of the Young Men's Christian Association 
at Camp Douglas was the first camp chapel in existence 
— being built in the October of 1861. 

Meanwhile many of the soldier converts had been 
sent to the field, and, feeling the want of the means 
of grace which they had left behind, they sent re- 
peated calls to the Chicago brethren to come down 
and establish similar meetings among them. In 
response to this invitation Mr. Moody was sent to the 
army, near Fort Donelson — being the first regular army 
delegate from Chicago. Similar labors by other Associ- 
ations led to a convention in Norfolk, Virginia, on the 



STORY OF MOODY'S LIFE. 275 

1 6th of November, 1861, where the United States 
Christian Commission was projected. 

The news of the battle of Fort Donelson, on the 15th 
of February, 1862, was the signal for sending to the 
field a special committee of relief, composed of the Rev. 
Robert Patterson, D. D., Mr Moody, and Mr. Jacobs. 
With them went a number of other brethren from 
Chicago, eager to minister to the sick and wounded and 
dying. 

Like the men who go down to the sea in ships, 
Moody and his brethren saw God's wonders in camp and 
field. Having so many sinners to point to the Savior, 
and so little time in which to do it, they prayed to the 
Lord to do His ' -short work." So many men found the 
Savior, and died while they were praying for them, that 
they came to have a strange familiarity with heaven. 
These souls seemed to be messengers between them and 
God, carrying up continually the fresh and glowing 
record of the work they were doing in His name. And 
so simple and easy did it become for them to "ask and 
receive," that they were rather surprised if the penitent 
for whose conversion they prayed was not blessed be- 
fore they reached the Amen. 

These wonders of grace in camp and field were re- 
ported at the Chicago noon prayer-meeting by Mr. 
Moody and his co-laborers, on their return from their 
frequent excursions to the front. By this means a very 
intimate connection was kept up between the work in 



276 story of Moody's life. 

the army and the work at home, and the meeting be- 
came intensely interesting — especially to those whose 
husbands, sons, and brothers, were fighting for the 
Union. 

Strangely enough, as though no other place were so 
near to heaven, and no other believers had such access 
to the ear of the Lord, people from all over the State, 
and even from neighboring States, used to send requests 
for prayer to be read at the Chicago noon prayer- 
meeting. These requests were received by thousands ; 
and often, in quick succession, came the tidings of 
glorions answers to prayer, with offerings of glad thanks- 
giving, and sometimes gifts of money and supplies for 
helping on the work of the Commission. 

One of. the marvels of those days was the revival of 
religion among the rebel prisoners, — about ten thousand 
of whom had been taken at Fort Donelson and brought 
to Camp Douglass, which was transformed from a camp 
of instruction into a prison. Mr. Moody was impressed 
with the thought that these poor men needed the means 
of grace fully as much as the Union soldiers ; but to 
gain access to them was a matter of extreme difficulty. 
One day he succeeded in obtaining a permit to visit 
them, which he gave to his friend Mr. Hawley, the 
Young Men's Christian Associations Secretary ; and him- 
self took a can of kerosene oil to light up with, it being 
towards evening, — hoping, in the capacity of a servant, 
to be allowed to pass the guard along with his more 



story of Moody's life. 277 

clerical-looking friend. But it was of no use ; the guard 
would not let in two men on one permit, though Mr. 
Moody exhibited his can of oil, and declared he was only 
going with the other gentleman to help along the 
meeting. 

The earnest discussion was overheard by the officer 
of the day, who came up to see what was the matter ; 
and recognising Mr. Moody, he took him to headquarters, 
vouched for his being all right, and obtained a pass for 
him to go in and hold meetings with the prisoners as 
often as he liked. In a few minutes he rejoined his friend 
Hawley in the prison. They announced the purpose of 
their visit ; and the men, being both surprised and 
pleased, gathered around them while they read the 
Scriptures, exhorted, and prayed. 

At the very first meeting the power of God was mani- 
fest, and a large number of the prisoners were inquiring 
what they must do to be saved. Meetings were held 
with them every afternoon and evening. The flame of 
revival spread throughout their entire camp. The 
tidings flew over the whole city and county, and pro- 
dused the most intense excitement. Great numbers of 
clergymen and lay workers begged for the privilege of 
assisting in the meetings. It was held to be a peculiar 
honor to lead one of those enemies to Christ. Great 
numbers were soundly converted ; and, returned to their 
Southern homes thanking God for their bonds, in which 
His servants had found them out, and where they, 



278 story of Moody's life. 

though prisoners of war, had found peace and liberty in 
the Savior. 

In all this work Mr. Moody bore an important and 
honorable part. His frequent excursions to battlefiields 
and camps made him, more than any other man, the 
medium of communication between the work in the 
army and the work at home. He was on the field after 
the battles of Pittsburgh Landing, Shiloh, and Murfrees- 
boro', with the army at Chattanooga, and was one of 
the first to enter Richmond, where he ministered alike 
to friend and foe. 

After the war Mr. Moody renewed his labors in 
Chicago with redoubled vigor. The north side mission 
had grown in numbers and influence. He decided that 
a tabernacle was necessary and that $20,000 would be 
required. The building was erected in Illinois street. 
He consulted with other ministers and it was decided to 
- organize a church. This was the beginning of the 
famous "Chicago Avenue church," the present building 
being put up after the destruction of the original taber- 
nacle by the great fire. The new church began with a 
membership of 300. 

In 1864 Mr. Moody was married to Miss Emma C. 
Revell. Three children were born to them — Emma, 
William and Paul. Mr. Moody's aged mother died in 
1896 and until her death lived in Northfield, adjoining 
the great evange'ist's home. 



story of Moody's life. 279 

The great fire in 1871 changed the whole current of 
Mr. Moody's life work, but not at once. With his wife 
and two children he was roused in the middle of the 
night to find the fierce fire approaching their dwelling, 
and, leaving his little store of worldly goods to their 
, fate, he had to seek shelter in the house of a friend. 
Mr. Moody's school and church were swept away, but in 
one month after the fire a temporary erection was com- 
pleted and services again held. 

Besides caring for his own school and church Mr. 
Moody sent out an appeal as president for the Young 
Men's Christian Association, for help to rebuild. Money 
flowed in from Great Britain and elsewhere. When the 
Association building was well under way Mr. Moody be- 
gan to think of permanent premises for his school and 
church. When the building fund was started money 
came from all parts. Among the unique gifts was a 
colossal subscription from 500,000 Sunday school children 
of 5 cents each, all anxious to have a brick in Mr. 
Moody's tabernacle. From Pekin, China, he received 
$300 from converted Chinamen. A start was made at 
building the new church, but for some time only the 
basement story was used and it was not until years 
afterward that the present handsome structure was 
completed and occupied. 

o-^ 



280 STORY OF MOODY'S LIFE. 

Moody and Sankey Meet. 



EVANGELIST INDUCES THE NOTED SINGER TO JOIN HIM. 



It was the hiatus following the shock of the great fire 
that turned Mr. Moody toward his real life work. He 
was very active in the national work of the Young 
Men's Christian Association convention in Indian- 
apolis. It was here that he met Ira D. Sankey, who 
later became his singing partner in revival work on two 
continents. It is said that Moody was dragging a prayer- 
meeting along under the deadening influence of one who 
was attemting to lead the singing. Sankey came in and 
was recognized by one who knew his musical ability. 
He was asked to handle the music and soon put life into 
the meeting. 

' 'Where do you live ?" asked Moody of Sankey at 
the close of the meeting. 

"In Newcastle, Pa," replied Sankey. 

"I want you," said Moody with no explanation. 

"What for?" 

"To help me in my work in Chicago." 

"I can't leave my business," said Sankey. 

"You must. I have been looking for you for eight 
years. You must give up your business and come to 
Chicago with me." 

Sankey came and for years the two evangelists 
worked together in Chicago. The new style of revival 



story of Moody's life. 281 

music shocked some of the ministers, but it won popular 
favor. 

In 1872 Moody and Sankey sailed for Liverpool, 
England, on direct invitation of English friends. Not 
having had a house of his own since the fire, Mr. Moody 
took his wife and children along. On arriving in Eng- 
land they began their labor in York, on the east coast. 
Progress was slow, but by degrees they won the con- 
fidence of the people. They visited Sunderland, New- 
castle and Carlisle in the north of England and interest 
in their services began to grow. Newcastle especially 
responded with many converts. Some Scotch friends, 
hearing of the revival, invited Moody and Sankey to 
pay a visit to Edinburgh. They went thither and be- 
gan a series of services that shook orthodox Scotland 
to its foundations. It was the spark to the dry tinder 
of centuries of formalism and preachers and congre- 
gations alike fell under the magic spell. Converts were 
made by thousands and there were no halls in the Scotch 
cities large enough to contain the audience that thronged 
to hear the Americans. 

For the next three years Moody and Sankey held 
revival services in all parts of Great Britain, concluding 
in 1875 with the remarkable thirty days' meeting in 
London. Professor Drummond, the Scotch writer, has 
said that Scotland would not be what it is today had it 
missed the year of Moody and Sankey. There are today 
in all parts of the United Kingdom buildings and institu- 



282 STORY OF MOODY'S LIFE. 

tions bearing the names of Moody and Sankey. A 
writer in the Edinburgh Review compared the visit of 
Moody and Sankey to Scotland with the reformation of 
Martin Luther in its moral power and with the evangel- 
ism of Whitfield and Wesley in its sweeping results. 

All the larger centers of population in Scotland Ire- 
land and England were the scene of a remarkable re-, 
ligious awakening during the visits of Moody and Sankey. 

When the evangelists sailed from Liverpool on theiir 
return to America there was an enormous crowd of 
people to bid them bon voyage. They were the re- 
cipients of thousands of messages of good will and 
earnest invitations to pay a second visit. On arrival in 
the United States the two eeangelists plunged at once 
into a series of meetings in all the larger cities. Their 
work was in some degree a repetition of the success in 
Great Britain as to crowds and converts. 



:o:- 



story of Moody's life. 283 

CHAPTER IV. 



MR. MOODY AT NORTHFIELD. 



Northfield is today the physical evidence of Moody's 
greatness as an educator as well as an evangelist. When 
in 1875 Moody, accompanied by Mr. Sankey, returned to 
America after an epoch-making tour of revivalism in 
Great Britain, it was expected that the evangelist would 
select Chicago for his home, as it had formerly been. 
But Moody had larger plans, and recognized that for the 
rest of his life he was to be a world evangelist without 
an abiding city. He would have to retire occasionally 
for a brief respite from his public labors and provide a 
shelter for his family. It was this twin purpose, as de- 
scribed by Mr. Moody himself, that first turned his 
thoughts to Northfield, his birthplace, as a permanent 
home. Nowhere could a more restful spot have been 
found. The trees which line the long, wide avenue in 
double rows on each side are tall and of vast girth and 
in the hottest days create ample shade. The old-fash- 
ioned white houses stand some distance from the road 
and from each other, and are mostly surrounded with 
lawns and flower beds. The old homestead which was 
Mr. Moody's birthplace was occupied by his mother un- 
til her death. It is a plain, old farmhouse, fronting 
upon a country road which branches from the main 
street of the village and winds easterly up the hillside 



284 



STORY OF MOODY S LIFE. 



toward a mountain district. It looks out upon orchards 
and meadows and has a large tree in its front dooryard. 
When Mr. Moody decided to make a permanent 
home in Northfield he bought for about $3,000 a plain 
but roomy frame house, with grounds, at the north end 
of the town 
near his mother's 
house. The build- 
ing fronts on the 
main road. To 
the building as 
Mr. Moody found 
it he made ad- 
ditions from time 
to time as they 
were required. 
His study was on 
the first floor near 
the entrance. 
Here was his 
workmg library. 
A fine clock, 
much admired by 
visitors, was sent 
to him by a lady 

in England who had been helped in the Christian life by 
Moody's illustration of a pendulum. Everything about 
the house was characterized by simplicity and the best 




story of Moody's life. 285 

conditions of effective work. In the heart of Northfield 
Rev. Dr. Pentecost of Brooklyn also purchased a com- 
modious residence, and still further south is a modest 
white cottage which Mr. Sankey also bought and fitted 
up as a summer home, to be near his' fellow evangelist. 

Mr. Moody was no sooner domiciled in Northfield 
than he began to turn his attention to remedying the 
lack of educational facilities for the young people of the 
neighborhood. He was still a tremendous worker in the 
outside evangelistic field, but whenever he returned to 
Northfield the desire to benefit the young with schooling 
facilities was uppermost. His own early education had 
been deficient, and it became a fixed purpose of his life 
to remove a similar deficiency for the new generation of 
young people growing up in Northfield and vicinity. He 
first planned a school for girls. He built a small ad- 
dition to his own house, with room for eight girls, and 
when twenty girls had been admitted to these cramped 
quarters, with others seeking entrance, he built a small 
brick dormitory and classroom on the other side of the 
street. This was also soon over-crowded, and Mr. Moody, 
with the help of a retired Boston merchant, bought a 
hillside farm adjoining his own and his mother's holdings 
to the north. Plans for a building were begun and in 
1879 the handsome brick building now known as East 
hall was erected. 

Its situation is more commanding than any of the 
other building put up later. It affords a superb view to 



286 story of Moody's life. 

the west and north. The foreground is the eastern slope 
of the Connecticut valley and the river can be seen at 
intervals throughout many miles of its winding course. 
The western slope of the valley, partly wooded, culmin- 
ates in a range of forrest-clad hills. In the direction of 
Vermont is a wide landscape, fading into distant 
mountain peaks. East hall cost about $30,000, was de- 
signed as a dormitory and accommodates sixty students. 
The small brick building near Mr. Moody's house was 
for some time used in connection with it as a recitation 
hall. An additional dormitory was remodeled out of a 
large dwelling house farther north and named Bonar 
hall, after Rev. Dr. Bonar of Glasgow. This latter 
building was destroyed by fire in March, 1886. 

From the first Mr. Moody had kept down the charge 
of board and tuition for his girls to $100 a year. The 
expense for each student was about $160 a year, the 
balance being made up by benevolent contributions. 
Applications increased at such rate that it was decided in 
1 88 1 to build another large dormitory. Moody was him- 
self absent in England during most of the next three 
years, but during his absence American friends and co- 
workers put up a large brick dormitory, costing about 
$60,000. The building was finished in 1884 and was 
named Marquand hall. Its site is to the northwest of 
East hall. The building is used entirely as a dormitory 
and accommodates about eighty students. About mid- 
way between Marquand hall and East hall a handsome 



story of Moody's liee. 287 

building of brick and granite, called Recitation hall, was 
completed in 1885. The cost of the latter building, like 
a similar one afterward put up at Mount Hermon, was 
borne by the hymn-book fund. Moody used to say 
when pointing to either structure: "Mr. Sankey sang 
that building up." 

In fitting up Recitation hall it was arranged that 
partitions could be removed and the whole thrown into 
one auditorium. This hall has been the scene of many 
of the most memorable gatherings in Northfield of later 
years. In the same building are chemical, physical and 
botanical laboratories. A library building has also been 
given by generous friends. Improvements have been 
made on the grounds, which now have a parklike aspect. 
Winding drives connect the buildings with the main 
thoroughfare. The seminary grounds include more than 
250 acres. There is an artificial lake, whose cost was 
borne by John Wanamaker of Philadelphia. Many 
additions and improvements have been made within 
recent years, but the seminary rules are the same as at 
the institution's humble beginning. Instead of scores 
the pupils are now numbered by hundreds. The cur- 
riculum is as thorough as in most girls' schools, with the 
addition of specific Christian training. A graduate of 
Wellesley college, Miss Evelyn S. Hall, organized the 
original teaching staff, which is still noted for proficiency. 

While the Northfield seminary was still in its infant 
state Mr. Moody decided to have also a school for boys. 



288 story of Moody's life. 

His first purchase for this end was a 400 -acre farm in 
the town of Gill, about four miles from Northfield, in a 
southwesterly direction, across the Connecticut. He 
bought 200 acres first for $7,000 and a little later the 
other 200 acres for $5,500. The Connecticut River 
railroad traverses the site. The height upon which Mr. 
Moody decided to build his boys' school is now called 
Mount Hermon. There is a picturesque drive from 
Northfield to Mount Hermon. The river is crossed by 
a wire-rope ferry and there is telephone communication 
between the buildings of both institutions. The money 
with which the Mount Hermon property was bought was 
the gift of Hiram Camp, who wrote his check for 
$25,000. 

At first the old farmhouses found upon the place were 
used as dormitories. A small wooden building was first 
put up to serve as a recitation hall. When more dormi- 
tory room was needed Mr. Moody concluded to try the 
family system. Instead of housing a large number of 
boys in one building they were divided into groups of not 
more than twenty and housed in small cottages, each 
under the charge of two matrons. In 1885 a large 
building of brick and granite, called Recitation hall, was 
completed and dedicated. It contains class and recita- 
tion rooms, library, chapel and museum. There is a 
splendid view from the cupola of this building. After a 
few years Mr. Moody changed his plans and raised the 
age of admission for boys to 16 years and enlarged the 



story of Moody's life. 289 

course of study. This broke up the family system to 
some extent, and new buildings on a large scale were 
begun in 1885. In June, 1886, a large dormitory, called 
Crossley hall, was dedicated. Later a large brick 
dining hall was erected, and within recent years there 
have been many additions, making the Mount Hermon 
seminary one of the best equipped boys' schools in the 
east. 

Mr. Moody always had strong views as to the ad- 
mission and training of his scholars of both sexes. At 
Mount Hermon the cost of board and tuition was also 
placed at $ioo a year, so that none was barred on the 
ground of expense. At Mount Hermon the students 
have always been required to perform a certain amount 
of manual labor in addition to class work. Some are- 
employed on the farm, some in the laundry and some in: 
housework. The students are for the most part a picked: 
body of young, vigorous Christians, who have been 
drawn to Mr. Moody's school from all parts of the earth. 
There are students from Germany, Scandinavia, Turkey, 
and even American Indians and Japanese. Of course 
the main body of students is of American extraction, and 
a large proportion of them are in training for missionary 
work. Whenever he was at Northfield Mr. Moody gave 
regular courses of lectures at both of his schools, and 
distinguished educators from all other seats of learning 
have been frequent lecturers. 

Besides his schools, Northfield, under Mr. Moody's 



290 story of Moody's life. 

direction, became the center of gatherings of religious 
workers, culminating in the famous summer conventions 
which were begun in 1880 For nine months of every 
year up to the last year of his life Mr. Moody was en- 
grossed in arduous evangelistic labor in various parts of 
the country. His idea of a vacation was to throw him- 
self into his Northfield educational work and to plan big 
conventions which made Northfield a summer city. He 
called his first convention of Christian workers in 1880. 
The only large building then constructed was the one 
now known as East hall, behind which a capacious camp 
was pitched. Under this canopy from day to day were 
held meetings whose influence was world-wide. 

In 1 88 1 a convention was called for bible study and 
continued for thirty days. Rev. Dr. Bonar of Clasgow, 
who had just served as moderator of the general assembly 
of the Free church of Scotland, was a principal figure at 
this gathering. Dozens of equally prominent clergymen 
and evangelists attended and Mr. Sankey conducted the 
singing. For the next three years, owing to Mr. Moody's 
absence in England, there were no conventions, but in 
1885 there was another August convention. Evere year 
since they have grown in interest. The attendance has 
averaged from 300 to 500 from a distance, and with the 
people of the vicinity the meeting often averaged 1,500. 
Moody was always the life and soul of these conventions 
and of late years many of the most prominent regular 
pasters in England and America have taken part. 



STORY OF MOODY'S LIFE. 29 1 

Special conventions of college students have also been 
held under Mr. Moody's personal leadership. Whether 
the great evangelist's death will lessen the fame of 
Northfield as a convention city is a melancholy problem 
for a host of his friends and co-workers. 

Mr. Moody was stricken with heart trouble in Kan- 
sas City on Nov. 16, 1899, while holding revival 
meetings at Convention hall. He was compelled to give 
up his work, and on the day following started east in the 
care of a physician. 

Mr. Moody addressed great crowds during his stay at 
Kansas City. The meetings began on Sunday, Nov. 12. 
The crowds were immense, thousands of people rilling 
the hall afternoon and evening each day. The strain on 
Mr. Moody was great. He preached his last sermon on 
Thursday night, Nov. 16, fully 1 5,000 people listening to 
an earnest appeal which many stamped as one of the 
evangelist's greatest efforts. He was stricken the next 
morning at his hotel, but laughingly declared he was all 
right, and that he would be able to preach that after- 
noon. 

After he reached Northfield eminent physicians were 
consulted and everything was done to prolong life. 

Conscious up to the moment his eyes closed, well 
knowing his last sleep was about to begin, he died at 
1 1 150 o'clock, Dec. 22, 1899. The end came quietly, 
peacefully, at his home in this village, which he loved 
so well and near to the scenes of many of his triumphs. 



292 STORY OF MOODY'S LIFE. 

Mr. Moody first knew that the end was very near at 
8 o'clock the previous night. He was satisfied that he 
would not recover, and when the doctor confirmed his 
opinion he said: 

"The world is receding and heaven opening." 

During the night Mr. Moody had a number of sinking 
spells, Despite his suffering he was kindness itself to 
those about him. 

At 7:30 o'clock in the morning Dr. Wood was again 
called. When he reached Mr. Moody's room he found 
his patient in a semi-conscious condition. When Mr. 
Moody recovered consciousness he said, with all his old 
vivacity: 

"What's the matter; what's going on here ?" 

"Father, you haven't been quite so well, and so we 
came in to see you," a member of the family replied. 
A little later Mr. Moody said to his sons: 

"I have always been an ambitious man — not am- 
bitious to lay up wealth, but to find work to do." 

Mr. Moody urged his two boys and Mr. Fitt to see 
that the schools at Northfield, at Mount Hermen and 
the Chicago Bible Institute should receive their best 
care. This they assured Mr. Moody they would do. 

During the forenoon Mrs. Fitt, his daughter, said to 
him: "Father, we can't spare you." Mr. Moody's reply 
was: 

"I'm not going to throw my life away. If God has 
more work for me to do I'll not die." 



story of Moody's life. 293 

He was thoroughly conscious until within less than a 
minute of his death and told his family that as God 
called he was ready to go. At one time he told the 
attending physician not to give him any more medicine 
to revive him, as calling him back simply prolonged the 
agony for his family. In his closing hours there was no 
note of sadness, but one of triumph. 



■:o:- 



TEACHING THE DEAF TO 

SPEAK. 



The Teeth the Best Medium and yhe Au di phone tsve 

Best Instrument for Conveying Sounds to 

the Deaf, and in Teaching the Partly 

Deaf and Dumb to Speak, 

Address Delivered by R. S. Rhodes, of 

Chicago, Before the Fourteenth Convention 

of American Teachers of the Deaf, at 

Flint, Michigan. 



Mr. President and Ladies and Gentlemen: 

I would like to relate some of the causes which led to 
my presence with you to-day. 

About sixteen years ago I devised this instrument, the 
audiphone, which greatly assisted me in hearing, and 
discovered that many who had not learned to speak were 
not so deaf as myself. I reasoned that an instrument in 
the hands of one who had not learned to speak would 
act the same as when in the hands of one who had 
learned to speak, and that the mere fact of one not being 
able to speak would in no wise affect the action of the 
instrument. To ascertain if or not my simple reasoning 
was correct, I borrowed a deaf-mute, a boy about twelve 
years old, and took him to my farm. We arrived there 
in the evening, and during the evening I experimented to 



THE AUDIPHONE. 

see if he could distinguish some of the vowel sounds. My 

experiments in this direction were quite satisfactory. 
Early in the morning I provided him with an audiphons 
and took him by the hand for a walk about the farm. 
We soon came across a flock of turkeys. We approached 
closely, the boy with his audiphone adjusted to his teeth, 
and when the gobbler spoke in his peculiar voice, the boy 
was convulsed with laughter, and jumping for joy con- 
tinued to follow the fowl with his audiphone properly 
adjusted, and at every remark of the gobbler the boy was 
delighted. I was myself delighted, and began to think 
my reasoning was correct. 

We next visited the barn. I led him into a stall beside 
a horse munching his oats, and to my delight he could 
hear the grinding of the horse's teeth when the audiphone 
was adjusted, and neither of us could without. In the 
stable yard was a cow lowing for its calf, which he plainly 
showed he could hear, and when I led him to the cow- 
barn where the calf was confined, he could hear it reply 
to the cow, and by signs showed that he understood their 
language, and that he knew the one was calling for the 
other. We then visited the pig-sty where the porkers 
poked their noses near to us. He could hear them with 
the audiphone adjusted, and enjoyed their talk, and 
understood that they wanted more to eat. I gave him 
some corn to throw over to them, and he signed that that 
was what they wanted, and that now they were satisfied. 
He soon, however, broke away from me and pursued the 
gobbler and manifested more satisfaction in listening to 
its voice than to mine, and the vowel sounds as com- 
paied to it were of slight importance to him, and for the 
three days he was at my farm that poor turkey gobbler 
btmd but Uttle rest. * 



HEARING THROUGH THE TEETH. 

With these and other experiments I was satisfied that 
he could hear, and that there were many like him; so I 
fcook my grip and audiphones and visited most of the 
institutions for the deaf in this country. In all institu- 
tions I found many who could hear well, and presented 
the instrument with which this hearing could be improved 
and brought within the scope of the human voice. But 
at one institution I was astonished; I found a bright girl 
with perfect hearing being educated to the sign language. 
She could repeat words after me parrot-like, but had no 
knowledge of their value in sentences. I inquired why 
she was in the institution for the deaf, and by examining 
the records we learned she was the child of deaf-mute 
parents, and had been brought up by them in the country, 
and although her hearing was perfect, she had not heard 
spoken language enough to acquire it, and I was informed 
by the superintendent of the institution that she pre- 
ferred signs to speech. I was astonished that a child 
with no knowledge of the value of speech should be per- 
mitted to elect to be educated by signs instead of speech,, 
md to be so educated in a state institution. This cir- 
cumstance convinced me more than ever that there was 
a great work to be done in redeeming the partly deaf 
children from the slavery of silence, and I was more 
firmly resolved than ever that I would devote the re- 
mainder of my life to this cause. 

I have had learned scientists tell me that I could not 
hear through my teeth. It would take more scientists 
than ever were born to convince me that I did not hear 
Ay sainted mother's and beloved father's dying voice 
with this instrument, when I could not have heard it 
«¥ifcbo»*t. 



THE AUDIPHONE- 

It would take more scientists than ever were born to 
* onvince me that I did not hear the voice of the Rev. 
James B. McClure, one who has been dear to me for the 
last twenty years, and accompanied me on most of my 
visits to institutions spoken of above, and who has en- 
couraged me in my labors for the deaf all these years, say, 
as I held his hand on his dying bed only Monday last, 
and took my final leave from him (and let me say, I 
know of no cause but this that would have induced me 
to leave him then), " Go to Flint; do all the good you 
can. God bless your labors for the deaf! We shall 
never meet again on earth. Meet me above. Good-by!" 

And, Mr. President, when I am laid at rest, it will be 
with gratitude to you and with greater resignation for the 
active part you have taken in the interest of these partly 
deaf children in having a section for aural work admitted 
to this national convention, for in this act you have con- 
tributed to placing this work on a firm foundation, which 
is sure to result in the greatest good to this class. 

You have heard our friend, the inventor of the tele- 
phone, say that in his experiments for a device to im- 
prove the hearing of the deaf, (as he was not qualified 
by deafness,) he did not succeed, but invented the tele- 
phone instead, which has lined his pocket with gold. 
From what I know of the gentleman, I believe he would 
willingly part with all the gold he has received for the 
use of this wonderful invention, had he succeeded in his 
efforts in devising an instrument which would have 
emancipated even twenty per cent, of the deaf in the in- 
stitutions from the slaverv of silence. I have often 
wished that he mijrht have invented the audiphone and 



HEARING THROUGH THE TEETHc 

received as much benefit by its use as I, for then he 
would have used the gold he derives from the telephone 
in carrying the boon to the deaf; but when I consider 
that in wishing this I must wish him deaf, and as it would 
not be right for me to wish him this great affliction, there- 
fore since I am deaf, and I invented the audiphone, J 
would rather wish that I might have invented the tele* 
phone also; in which case I assure the deaf that I would 
have used my gold as freely in their behalf as would he. 
[The speaker then explained the use of the audiometer 
in measuring the degree of 'hearing one may possess. 
Then, at his request, a gentleman from the audience, a 
superintendent of one of our large institutions, took a 
position about five feet from the speaker, and was asked 
to speak loud enough for Mr. Rhodes to hear when he did 
not have the audiphone in use, and by shouting at the top 
of his voice, Mr. Rhodes was able to hear only two or 
three "o" sounds, but could not distinguish a word. 
With the audiphone adjusted to his teeth, still looking 
away from the speaker, he was able to understand ordinary 
tones, and repeated sentences after him; and, when look- 
ing at him and using his eye and audiphone, the speaker 
lowering his voice nearly as much as possible and 
yet articulating, Mr, Rhodes distinctly heard every 
word and repeated sentences after him, thus showing the 
value of the audiphone and eye combined, although Mr. 
Rhodes had never received instructions in lip reading. 
The gentleman stated that he had tested Mr. Rhodes' 
hearing with the audiometer when he was at his institu- 
tion in 1894, and found he possessed seven per cent, in 
his left ear and nothing in his right.] 



FOR THE DEAF. 

THE AUDIPHONE 

&& Instrument that Enables Deaf Persons to Hear Or- 
dinary Conversation Readily through the Medium of 
the Teeth, and Many of those Born Deaf and Dumb 
t« Hear and Learn to Speak. 

INVENTED BY RICHARD S. RHODES, CHICAGO. 

Medal Awarded at the World's Columbia Expo- 
sition, Chicago. 

The Audiphone is a new instrument made of a peculiar composition,, 
posessing the property of gathering the faintest sounds (somewhat similar 
to a telephone diaphragm), and conveying them to the auditory nerve, 
through the medium of the teeth. The external ear has nothing what- 
ever to do in hearing with this wonderful instrument. 

Thousands are in use by those who would not do without them for 
any consideration. It has enabled doctors and lawyers to resume practice, 
teachers to resume teaching, mothers to hear the voices of their children, 
thousands to hear their ministers, attend concerts and theatres, and 
engage in general conversation. Music is heard perfectly with it when, 
without i, not a note could be distinguished. It is convenient to carry 
and to use. Ordinary conversation can be heard with ease. In most 
cases deafness is not detected 

Full instructions will be sent with each instrument. The Audiphone- 
is patented throughout the civilized world. 

PRICE: 

Conversational, small size - - $3.00- 

Conversational, medium si2e, - - - - - - -3.00 

Concert size, -----_._-- 5.00 

Trial instrument, good and serviceable, - - - - - 1.50 

The Audiphone will be sent to any address, on receipt of price, by 

Rhodes & McClure Publishing Co., 

296 Wabash Avenue, Chicago, I1L 



PUBLISHED BY 

RHODES & McCLURE PUBLISHING CO., 

Chicago. 



■HM handsomely bound in the best English and American cloths, with full Silver- 
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soil's Lectures on the "Mistakes of Moses, '- 
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to which are appended in full these Ingersoll lectures and his replies A* 
fair presentation of the full discussion. 

GREAT SPEECHES OF COL. R. G. INGERSOLL; complete; 
newly revised (1897) edition; 409 pages. Containing the many 
eloquent, timely, practical speeches of this most gifted o.ator and states- 
man, including his recent matchless "Eulogy on Abraham Lincoln," 
"Speech on the Declaration of Independence," "To the Farmers on 
Farming," Funeral Oration at his Brother's Grave, etc., etc. Fully 
and handsomely illustrated. 

WIT, WISDOM AND ELOQUENCE OF COL. R. G. INGERSOLL; 
newly revised popular (1897) edition, illustrated; 336 pages. Con- 
taining the remarkable Witticisms, terse, pungent and sarcastic sayings, 
and eloquent extracts on popular themes, from Ingersoll's Speeches; a 
very entertaining volume. 

THE FIRST MORTGAGE; 310 pages. A truthful, instructive, pleas- 
ing and poetical presentation of Biblical stories, history and gospel 
truth; fully and handsomely illustrated from the world-renowned artist, 
Gustave Dore, by E. U. Cook, the whole forming an exceedtogly <?niter- 
esting and entertaining poetical Bible. One of the handsomest volumes 
ever issued in Chicago 




Standard Publications, $1 each, bound in Cloth. 




EVILS OF THE CITIES. By T. DeWitt Talmage, D. D.; 530 pages. 
The author, in company with the proper detectives, visited many of 
the most vile and wicked places in New York City and Brooklyn, osten- 
jibly looking for a thief, but in reality taking notes for a series of 
discourses published in this volume, which contains a full and graphic 
description of what he saw and the lessons drawn therefrom. The Doctor 
has also extended his observations to the "Summer Resorts," "Watering 
Places," Races, etc., etc., all of which are popularized from his standpoint 
in this volume. Handsomely illustrated and decidedly interesting. 

TALMAGE IN THE HOLY LAND: 322 pages. The 
Palestine Sermons of T. DeWitt Talmage, delivered during 
his tour of the Holy Land. Including graphic descriptions 
of Sacred Places, Vivid Delineations of Gospel Truths, 
interesting local reminiscences, etc., etc., by his visit to the 
many places made sacred by the personal presence of Jesus 
and the great pens of Biblical characters and writers. 
Copiously illustrated. 

SIN: A series of popular discourses delivered by T. DeWitt 
Talmage, D. D., and illustrated with 136 engravings by 
H. De Lay; 411 pages. 

MCNEILL'S POPULAR SERMONS: 373 pages. Delivered in Lon- 
con and America by the Rev. John McNeill, one of the ablest and 
most p< pular of living divines, and known on both continents as "The 
SccTch Spurgeon " of Europe, of whom D. L. Moody has said: " He is 
the greatest preacher in the world." A most clear, vivid, earnest and 
life-like presentation of Gospel Truth; sincerely and decidedly spiritual. 
A most edifying, instructive and entertaining volume for young and old. 

EDISON AND HIS INVENTIONS: 278 page*. Containing 
full illustrated explanations of the new and wonderful Pho- 
nograph, Telephone, Electric Light, and all his principal 
inventions, in Edison's own language, generally, including 
many incidents, anecdotes and interesting particulars connect* 
ed with the earlier and later life of the world-renowned 
inventor, together with a full Electrical Dictionary, explain- 
ing all of the new electrical terms; making a very entertain- 
ing and valuable book of the life and works of Edison. 
Profusely illustrated. 



GEMS OF TRUTH AND BEAUTY. A choice selection 
of wise, eloquent extracts from Talmage, Beecher, Moody 
Spurgeon, Guthrie and Parker, forming a volume thai 
keenly interests. A good gift and center table book- 
300 pages. Illustrated. 





standard Publications, $1 each, bound in Cloth, 



TEN YEARS A COW BOY. A full and vivid de* 
scription of frontier life, including romance, advent- 
ure and all the varied experiences incident to a life 
on the plains as cow boy, stock owner, rancher, etc., 
together with articles on cattle and sheep raising, 
how to make money, description of the plains, etc., 
etc. Illustrated with ioo full-page engravings, and 
contains reading matter 471 pages. 

WILD LIFE IN THE FAR WEST. By C. H. Simpson, a resident 
detective, living in this country. Giving a full and graphic account 
of his thrilling adventures among the Indians and outlaws of Mon- 
Jana — including hunting, hair-breadth escapes, captivity, punishment and 
difficulties of all kinds met with in this wild and lawless country. Illus J 
Crated by 30 full-page engravings, by G. S. Littlejohn, and contains read- 
: ng matter 264 pages. 

A YANKEE'S ADVENTURES IN SOUTH AFRICA. (In the dia- 
mond country.) By C. H. Simpson. Giving the varied experiences, 
adventures, dangers and narrow escapes of a Yankee seeking his 
fortune in this wild country, which by undaunted courage, perseverance, 
suffering, fighting and adventures of various sorts is requited at last by 
the ownership of the largest diamond taken out of the Kimberly mines 
up to that time, and with the heart and hand of the fairest daughter of a 
diamond king. Containing 30 full-page illustrations by H. DeLay and 
reading matter 220 pages. 



fWIT. Contains sketches from Mark Twain, witticisms 
from F. H. Carruth, Donglas Jerrold, M. Quad, Opie 
Reid, Mrs. Partington, Eli PerkiDs, O'Malley, Bill 
Nye, Artemus Ward, Abe Lincoln, Burdette, Daniel 
Webster, Victor Hugo, Brother Gardner, Clinton 
Scollard, Tom Hood, L. R. Catlin, Josh. Billings, 
Chauncey Depew and all humorous writers of mod- 
era times. Illustrated with 75 full-page engravings, 
by H. DeLay, and contains reading matter 407 pages. 

BENONI AND SERAPTA. A Story of the Time of the Great Con 
stan tine, Founder of the Christian Faith. By Douglas Vernon. A 
religious novel showing a Parsee's constancy and faith through 
many persecutions, trials and difficulties, placed in his way by priests 
nobles and queens of his time an4 his final triumph over all obstacles 
Being an interesting novel, int nded to show the state of the religious 
feelings and unscrupulous intrigues of those professing religion at the 
time of the foundation of the Christian faith. Illustrated with 33 full' 
ftage engravings by H DeLav and contains reading matter 38c pages 




WEBSTER'S UNABRIDGED DICTIONARY. 

This Dictionary -^ 

contains every word 
that Noah Webster 
ever defined, and 
the following 

Special 

Features 

An Appendix of 
10,000 Additional 
Words. 

A List of 15,000 
Synonyms. 



Pronouncing Vo- 
cabularies of 



SCRIPTURE NAMES 
GREEB AND LATIN 
PROPER NAMES 
MODERN 

GEOGRAPHICAL 
NAMES. 

— O — 

A Dictionary of 
Mercantile and Le- 
gal Terms. Eighty- 
six pages of illus- 
trations, portraying 
over 3,000 objects 
difficult to discribe 
in words. The 
Flags of all Nations 
in Colors. 

Size io^xS}4^3/4 inches; weight about 7^ lbs; 1,700 pages, 
illustrated. Strongly and durably bound in three styles. 

HALF RUSSIA .... PRICE, &3.00 

FULL SHEEP PRICE, $4.00 

SPECIAL TAN SHEEP. . . PRICE, $5. OO 

THUMB INDEX 50 CENTS EXTRA. 
This Dictionary also contains a frontispiece portrait of Noah 
Webster; author's preface; a memoir of the English language; rules for 
pronunciation, etc., etc. 

Printed on good grade of clear white paper, and especial care is 
taken with the binding. For the sheep binding a beautiful cover design 
was made. 

RHODES & McCLURE PUBLISHING CO. 

296 WABASH AVENUE, CHICAGO ILL. 







